After the fire
by AirborneGirl
Summary: For some people, a disaster is just a disaster. For others, like Wade, it's a chance to redeem himself. In Zoe's eyes and in his own.
1. Chapter 1

**After the fire **

**AN**: This is my first multi-chapter Hart of Dixie story. Hope you like it. Just for the flow of this story, I took a leave of my signature style of writing in the second person. It works most times, but I noticed that if you, as a writer, want to switch between POV's from different characters, it tends to confuse you. Hope you readers enjoy anyway.

**Disclaimer**: I want to own Wilson Bethel. I really do. but no...I can't. Hart of Dixie cast and characters are sadly not mine.

**Spoilers**: Set after season two ending. Zoe's still in New York. Joel doesn't exist.

It's a storm like any other storm the state of Alabama has ever seen. There's absolutely no reason whatsoever to assume it will leave a larger path of destruction than on any other occasion and apart from taking the usual precautions, nobody in the small town of Bluebell has done anything more.

Wade Kinsella has just finished boarding up his gatehouse and has already done the same for the carriage house, which is standing empty and lonely next to his, only parted by a small pond. He still tries hard not to think about the reason there's no life inside, about the reason its former occupant is no longer there.

His heart, his head, his entire body still hurt every morning when he wakes up with the knowledge that he may have lost her for good. That she might not want to come back from her retreat in New York. Or worse; she might come back only out of obligation to the rest of the town, which would mean he would get to see her most days, look but not touch. Never again.

It hurts like hell and he has no-one to blame but himself.

His own insecurities. His own destructive tendencies. Huh, for all the comments he always has about his father's drunken behavior, he's not doing a lot better. Guess the apple really didn't fall far from the tree.

Perhaps next month he'll join crazy Earl up the roof and take the damn jump with him. Get it over with.

Only it would be exactly what everyone has always expected him to do: end up like his drunken father, amounting to nothing.

He desperately wants to amount to something. How else is he going to get her back?

So yes, all storm shutters are pinned down. The town is ready for the storm.

When it comes, it hits hard, but not harder than average. The townspeople of Bluebell are all grouped together in the Rammer Jammer. All the usual facilities are set up just in case. Emergency food and water packages, candles and flashlights for when the electricity goes down, blankets to keep warm, a first aid station where Brick Breeland is checking his supplies. It's been done before and all preparations have long since become routine to most.

Wade isn't overly concerned. Born and raised in this place, he's seen his share of storms, twisters and hurricanes and though he'll never be so stupid as to underestimate their destructive qualities, he also knows there's no reason to panic.

The Rammer Jammer is packed. So far, electricity is still on and he's handing out drinks. Rain is lashing against the sides of the building. Some children are looking a bit scared, but he can just kiss Wanda when she comes up with a little singing game to distract the little ones, their high pitched voices now mostly drowning out the sounds of the howling wind and the golf ball sized hail stones.

A large bolt of lightning is almost immediately followed by a clap of thunder. A child starts to cry, huddling against his mother. The lights in the bar flicker ominously, but stay on. With a nod from Wade, Tom gets out the candles and starts lighting them everywhere around, careful to put them firmly and far away from small children's hands. They may not be so lucky with the next big bang. Seems like they are in the centre of the storm.

He's right. Another flash, another clap and the Rammer Jammer goes dark, except for the glowing candles. Wanda is still singing with the kids, some of them now on the verge of tears, others bravely soldiering on. She's a trooper. He reminds himself to buy her a drink when this ordeal is over.

Outside, the lightning and thunder still do their best to impress, but already those who've been living their lives here long enough, can tell they are most likely over the worst part, as the time separating the bolts from the following noise is increasing, indicating the bad weather is moving on.

Just as Wade's about to breathe a sigh of relief, a huge crack of lightning lights ups the place for a second. A young girl screams in the almost dark and she may be right to do so.

Something just took a direct hit. It may not have been the bar, but somewhere close, some building is probably going up in flames. Automatically, his eyes scan the room, but everyone he cares for is there. Or at least safe.

Two seconds later, his cell phone starts to buzz. He's surprised he heard it, but he takes it out.

Lavon. Who has opted to stay at his own place with AB.

The plantation? Not very likely. Or…oh God no…

"Lavon?"

"Wade…you'd better get down here. The pole of the fuse box has collapsed on top of the carriage house. It caught fire."

He wants to vomit. He wants to disappear into a deep black hole. He wants to run as fast as he can in the opposite direction of the now quickly fading thunderstorm. Anything but drive up in the still falling rain to witness Zoe's home fall victim to the flames while trying to save whatever he can from the possessions she's left behind.

The rain is no help in quenching the flames, he knows. This being an electricity induced fire, it only means more things can spark and create a chain reaction. Why, why hasn't he replaced the fuse box before? Is he now to add the guilt of letting her home go up in flames to the list of Wade Kinsella's stupidities?

Visibility is almost zero, the tires of his muscle car are slipping and sliding on the dirt road to the plantation. Only his intimate knowledge of every pothole and tree root sticking out helps him navigate and by some God given miracle he makes it in one piece.

The firemen have just arrived and are doing whatever they can. Lavon runs up to meet him, drenched and shivering but not caring. Within seconds, Wade too is soaked to the bone as the rain still pelts relentlessly against his skin, even if the thunder now only roars in the distance.

It's a scary, awe inspiring sight. The flames are licking up the second floor, the porch steps have already mostly succumbed. Will anything be salvageable from this destruction?

Hours pass by with nothing else to do for both men but to stay out of the way of the firefighters and watch helplessly as they try valiantly to save as much as possible from the building.

Very late at night or very early in the morning, depending on someone's POV, the chief fireman calls the fire mastered and his team start packing up their stuff. The rain has cleared up by now and Wade shivers violently in his wet shirt and jeans.

The chief fireman approaches Lavon and him.

"We've done everything we could, Mayor Hayes. The good news is that the main structure of the building in itself is secure and there should be no danger to enter. The bad news is that there's not much left to be saved inside. I'm very sorry, but most of Dr. Hart's personal possessions were lost."

Wade hangs his head in defeat, though he never had a lot of hope. All that's left to do is for him and Lavon to go talk to the insurance company to come up with the funding to repair the damage to the house itself. And then contact Zoe with the news that even if she wanted to come home, she has nothing to come home to.

Yeah, he's really looking forward to that conversation. Yet, for some reason he can't even explain to himself, he knows it has to be him who gives her the bad news. Perhaps it's a form of penance, perhaps it's because she's already disappointed in him, so he may as well sacrifice his last bit of pride for this too.

For now, he just stands there, defeated. Until Lavon puts his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Wade? Come home with me. Take a shower, get into something dry and get a few hours of sleep."

It sounds like heaven, but how can he…

"I think I'll just go home."

"I don't think so. Not with that view of Zoe's house and the smell of smoke still in the air. No, man, you're coming home to the main house. No argument."

Suddenly too tired to protest, Wade follows his best friend home, where he showers and changes, eats some scrambled eggs, and drags himself off to bed in one of the guest rooms. Lavon tells him before he gets upstairs that the Rammer Jammer is safe, that there are no casualties and that Wanda has sent everyone home as soon as the rain reduced to merely some drops. The news of Zoe's home burning down has not yet reached the rest of Bluebell and secretly both men are glad of that.

They can deal with it in the morning…

As usual after a storm of this magnitude, the sun comes up all warm and friendly in the sky, almost belying the dangerous side of the balmy Alabama climate. Usually, it's a comfort, with the same children who were scared the night before, now playing in the rapidly drying pools of mud. But today, far from bringing relief to the grown-up people in town, it only succeeds in highlighting the destruction of the pretty little carriage house. It had looked spooky in the rain and the dark. It looks helpless and crippled in the harsh reality of the day.

Wade struggles with his cereal, his usual apatite nowhere to be found. His one hand is listlessly spooning in the drudge in his bowl, his other is toying with his phone, fingers hovering over the name of the woman he knows he has to call.

But what the hell is he going to say to her? How do you tell a person that their house, their belongings are lost forever? Especially when this person is your ex-girlfriend, whom you cheated on and who certainly doesn't deserve another blow?

Finally choking away the last of his breakfast, he knows stalling the inevitable isn't going to help him. Better to rip off the band-aid in one go. With trembling fingers he selects her number and hears the dial tone.

It takes her a while to react and cowardly, he hopes she won't, but then she does.

"Wade?"

God it's so bittersweet to hear her say his name. Even if it sounds weary at the sound of his voice.

"Hey Zoe."

"Hi…I…Wade, I…"

"Look, Zoe, I know I promised you I would leave you alone to collect your thoughts, but I'm afraid I need to tell you something. Something not good."

Immediately, her tone changes from one of slight annoyance to one full of concern.

"What is it? Is someone injured? Someone die? Are you okay? Lavon? Rose?"

His heart only jumps a little at the notion she's still worried about him. About her other friends too of course, but she still mentioned him first. And she didn't mention Golden Boy at all. Taking this very small ray of light for all it's worth, he braces himself for the news he still has to bring.

"Don't worry, Doc. Nobody's sick or dead or injured. But…you might want to sit down for this."

He hears her shuffle as she finds a seat.

"Okay, I'm sitting, but you're making me nervous. What's wrong?"

"We eh…we had a storm last night. It hit the fuse box we share. And it eh…it sparked a fire. In the carriage house."

He hears her gasp as the implications sink in.

"Wade, what…"

"I'm so sorry, Zoe. There was no way anyone could get inside. The house in itself can be renovated, but I'm afraid your stuff, it's all…it's gone Zoe. I'm so sorry."

It remains silent for a while, but then her voice comes over the other end of the line again, sounding forcibly cheerful.

"Oh well, it's just…stuff. It's not that important, right? I mean, I can miss it. I can redecorate when I get home. I'll check with my insurance company. As long as nobody got hurt, right?"

"Eh…yeah. I guess. So…you're still planning on coming back?"

He hates sounding so vulnerable, but he can't help that that's the way he feels. He's completely lost without her and he's a fool not to realize it the moment before he lost her due to his own issues.

"Wade, I always planned on coming back. I just needed to create some distance, some perspective."

"I'm sorry I had to call you, Zoe. I wouldn't have if…you know."

"You could have let Lavon do it."

"True, but…Lavon's taking it badly. I figured that, since you hate me anyway, it might as well be me who's the bearer of bad news."

"I don't hate you Wade. I couldn't. I just…hate what you did."

"I know. And I'm sorry. For everything. Really, I am."

"I know. Thanks for letting me know…about the house. I guess I'll have to go talk to my insurance agency."

"Yeah, I guess. If there's anything you'd want me to do…"

"I'll let you know. Thanks Wade. Bye."

"Bye, Zoe."

There's so much he wants to say. How much he misses her. How much he still loves her and probably always will. How truly sorry he is and how he'll do anything, really anything to make it up to her. To make her see he's worthy of a second chance, that he can be trustworthy, and valuable.

Back in New York, Zoe is glad she's sitting down. She's just come home after her nightshift when her phone buzzes. One look at the small screen showed her the name of the one person she wasn't ready to talk to.

She's been back in the city for a month now and she has to admit, it's harder than she had anticipated. For some reason, she just can't seem to get back into the hurried pace of the city. It's not the comfort she hoped it would be. Instead of happily drowning herself into the once familiar routine of long work hours, nightclubs and parties and hardly any sleep, she feels alienated, secluded and lonely in the city she has once proudly called her home. As for now, the only thing she and New York have in common is the never sleeping part.

And it's all the caller's fault.

She's still shocked by the amount of destruction he has caused in her heart. These past four weeks back into the hustle and bustle of a huge city, she has tried to tell herself he isn't worth so much heartache, so many jumbled thoughts and sleepless nights. She should have removed his picture from her wallet long time ago. Not that she needs it; it's not like she'll forget his face any time soon regardless of paper printed images or photo's on her cell phone.

She wishes she could though. Wishes she could really feel and believe in what she's trying to tell herself. Wishes she didn't have to keep telling herself. That he's nothing. A nobody. Just a stupid bartender in a stupid little town in a retarded part of the country. He's a hick, a hillbilly and there's no way she would end up with a guy like that. She's a business suit, doctor or lawyer kind of gal. At least someone with a college degree. She belongs here, in the city. With sophisticated people who know their wines and who don't think a restaurant like Fancies is the bee's knees.

Wade is none of the above. He's not what she needs or deserves in life.

Then why is it that every time she is offered a hideously expensive glass of Chardonnay, she takes a sip and still misses the pretty generic red or white boxed (yes, boxed!) wine he stored at the Rammer Jammer for her?

Why is it that every time she bites into a black and white cookie she is transported back to that evening she came home to the carriage house to find a plate of inedible cookies he made for her in an attempt to show her he was capable of sweet gestures?

Why is it that every attempt any other man makes to come on to her is bound to fail? And they are usually handsome men too! Prosperous men, intelligent men. Suave and distinguished and exactly her type. But stiffly starched, crisp white shirts suddenly can't hold a candle to soft, faded, worn and warm flannel and a kiss on her hand is somehow nowhere nearly as exciting as being thrown over a man's shoulder and getting your ass spanked when you dare to scream.

But she doesn't love Wade Kinsella! She hates him with a cold vengeance that chills her blood. He cheated on her, hurt her, betrayed her and all the love she felt for him. It was, it is unforgivable and she's going to get over him, one way or another.

She thinks she's been doing quite well on the forgetting part these last few weeks as she went out with Gigi or one of her parents. She's even attended a few of her mother's clients' parties and met some semi-celebrities. And though she thought of Lavon first instead of Wade when she was introduced to a young and upcoming NLF start player, it still hurt. Lavon means Bluebell. Means plantation. Means Wade.

Back to square one. Damn it.

And then her phone is buzzing just as she gets back home and when she reads the name on the screen, her first instinct is to ignore it. Yet she knows she can't. The masochistic need to hear his voice wins from her common sense.

She picks up.

And will live to regret it, she knows now that she's hung up.

Whatever she had expected him to say, it wasn't this. It wasn't the news of her house, her beautiful carriage house, with so many emotionally valuable things in there, being burnt down. Lost. A smoldering heap of black debris.

She needs to see for herself, but she can't get herself to take the trip back there again. There are still two more months of her residency to complete and too many memories to drown before she is ready to face the truth.

It feels now like Bluebell itself has given her a very obvious statement: you're no longer welcome here. And if even her precious carriage house thinks the same, should she go back at all? Despite of what she has just told Wade?

Isn't it better for him too if she decides to stay away?

Still, she needs to see it for herself.

Against her own better judgment, she sends a text to Wade.

_Send me a picture._

The text back comes two minutes later.

_Don't do this to yourself._

It won't be a pretty picture, she knows that much. But still, seeing is believing, or so they say…she sends another text.

_I need to see._

_I won't let you. _

_I'll just ask Lavon._

_Don't do this to him either._

_Wade…I need to see._

_You sure?_

_Yes._

_Very well. But don't say I didn't warn you._

A photo comes up a few minutes after that. She chokes when she sees it. Her pretty house. All gone. Tears fill her eyes, blurring her vision and causing her to almost miss the next message coming in.

_Don't let this be a reason not to come back Doc. We'll work something out…_

She has no idea if he means the house or them. But for the first time since hearing the news, her anxiety lessens. Perhaps they can work something out…

He knows it was a stupid idea to send her the picture, but she was so stubborn and insistent and who was he to keep contradicting her? Besides, he was not lying when he told her Lavon has so far not been taking the loss of the carriage house very well. He doesn't want to burden his friend by having Zoe pestering him for a photo.

As the owner of the house as well as the mayor, it is hard enough for Lavon to escape this ordeal. During the days following the storm, they had to meet with representatives of the insurance company and some contractors to assess if the building can be renovated and if it's worth it.

That last apart was never the point for either Lavon or Wade. Legally speaking, Wade has no say in the matter, yet nobody so far has been stupid enough to suggest he mind his own business. As far as Wade's concerned, this is his business. This is the house owned by his best friend. The house the woman he loves calls home. And a home it will be again.

Money soon proves to be a deal breaker though. As it turns out; there's a gaping hole between the amount of damage done and the amount of cold hard cash the insurance company is willing to part with considering the fact they have come to the conclusion that it is a lost cause.

In the end, the sum of money coming from them won't cover half of the costs of rebuilding and Lavon has now almost resigned to the fact he'll have to hire a demolition company to get rid of what's left of the once so pretty little house.

Wade is still a little less inclined to throw in the towel. For days, he's been brooding on something. It's a Herculean task and everyone he would tell would probably send him straight to the nut house. It'll never work. It's impossible.

But even after weighing all the pros and cons and coming up a few (a lot) of pros short, he still knows what he has to do.

But before he can start doing anything, he needs help. And he knows exactly whose help is required.

Now all he can do is hope that person is willing to provide it.

Without giving his unsuspected victim any forewarning, he picks up his car keys and drives to her apartment.

"Lemon."

_To be continued…_

_Like? Love? Hate? Let me know, please._


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Hello dear readers, thank you all for your wonderful reviews and follows. Here's a new chapter for you to enjoy.

**ANII:** Okay, I'm not crazy and I know it's really impossible to do what Wade's doing in this chapter, nut this is the wonderful world of fiction, in which anything's possible, right? So just go along, please?

**Disclaimer**: As much as I wanted the Easter Bunny to be original and bring me Wilson Bethel with (only) a bow on him, I just got chocolate eggs, as usual. very good eggs, though, so I'll forgive him. in the meantime, I don't own Wilson, or Wad, or any other part of Hart of Dixie. Oh wel...on with the story...

**Chapter 2**

"Wade Kinsella, what are you doing here?"

"I need your help."

The blonde belle looks at him incredulously. Sure, she likes Wade well enough, knows him pretty well too, having grown up with him, but she cannot approve of his behavior. The news he cheated on Dr. Hart and subsequently chased her out of town spread like wildfire in the days following and got everyone in a frenzy of anger, directed at the bartender. And while Zoe may not be her favorite person, Lemon still believed she didn't deserve Wade's infidelity. Plus, with her gone, her dad has been swamped and irritable these past weeks. So no, Wade is definitely neither an expected nor a welcome visitor.

"What for? And why would I want to help you?"

She sizes him up as if he is no more than a cockroach trapped under her shoe.

"I know you don't like me a lot right now, nobody really does, but it's not for myself, not really anyway. It's for Zoe. And Lavon technically. I want to renovate the carriage house. I need money to do that. There's no bank in the world that'll give me a loan and the insurance company isn't exactly generous either, so I figured we could do something with the town pitching in. Organize a fund raiser or something. And that's where you come in. You're great at organizing events like this. You do it all the time. Please, Lemon, I know you never cared for Zoe and you really don't care for me either right now, but don't know who else to turn to!"

She regards him closely as he stands in her doorway. Never in all the years she's known him has Lemon Breeland seen Wade Kinsella looking this vulnerable. He's a sad, defeated shadow of the charming, devil-may-care guy he has always pretends to be. It's clear that the day he lost Zoe due to his own idiocy, he lost a vital part of himself too. The hurt and desperation are his almost palpable companions these days.

And this little fundraiser thing he's come up with is a way of redemption. Never one to express his feelings in a vocal way, he is now trying to do so with actions. And that in itself is so sweet that Lemon knows she can't possible deny his request.

She steps aside to let him in. He follows her wordlessly and she points to a couch to indicate he should sit down. Leaving him in her living room, she quickly hops into the kitchen to get some tea and cookies for refreshment. On her way back, she grabs her phone and laptop.

"All set, now let's start planning this little happening."

It's amazing to watch Lemon Breeland at work. With her laptop open on the coffee table in front of them and her phone in hand, she sweet talks, bribes or bullies all people whose input is required until everyone is ready to do her bidding and even be grateful to do so.

She's a force to be reckoned with and Wade is mighty glad to have touched upon her kind side. Flipping her pen, she's checking off the many items on their to-do list.

"Okay. We have the town square booked. Agnes will make her tea, you'll look into a band we can book and please no more Lilly-Anne Lonergan!"

He gives a wan smile at that.

"We got AB's help with organizing a bake-sale and a games centre for the kids. This should be fun."

"I hope fun enough to raise the money we need."

"You do know hiring a contractor will cost a fortune, right?"

"Yeah…I'm not gonna do that."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not hiring a contractor. The structure of the building is sound, the foundations are strong enough, the plumbing is all intact. It'll be mostly replacing the woodwork, some stucco, some rewiring and finding new furniture. Give it a coat of paint of course. I might need some help with the wiring, but the rest is on me."

"You're going to do this all by yourself? Wade, that's madness!"

"Is it? There's nothing I can't do myself. Plus, I need to do this."

"For her."

"Yes. But also for me. Even if she won't come running back to me and I don't expect her to, I want to take this chance to show her that I can make a grand gesture, that I do want to better myself."

The hand on his arm is warm and firm and strangely encouraging.

"I'm sure you'll turn it into a real little palace."

"Let's get the cash first."

"Oh don't worry. We'll shake the good people of Bluebell out of all their spare change and then some. I can be very…persuasive, you know."

"Lemon Breeland, I had no idea."

How right she turned out to be. The day of the fundraising the weather is perfect, the drinks are nice and sweet, the band he's managed to book (and gets to play with!) is awesome and the money is really pouring in.

At the end of the day, Lemon starts counting the notes and the coins at the corner table of the Rammer Jammer, Wade hovering nearby, anxious to know if it will be enough to fulfill his plans. Finally, she punches in some last numbers on her calculator and tallies it up. Then gasps.

"What? Is it…enough?"

"This is…Wade, unless you want to build the Taj Mahal, this is, damn!"

"Lemon Breeland, did you just swear?"

Without acknowledging his question, she scribbles a number on a piece of paper and hands it to him. He takes it and looks.

"Lemon…are you sure you didn't misplace the decimal point?"

"Yes. I checked it twice. This is for real. Some of these donations are pretty spectacular!"

"It's…damn!"

"That's what I said."

"Yeah and you were right! Triple damn! Who here in Bluebell has this kind of money lying around?"

She just shrugs.

"I don't know and I don't think we should find out. Let's just be grateful."

Forgetting himself for a moment, he bends over and kisses her cheek.

"You are a trooper, Lemon. Thanks a million! Next weeks, all your drinks are on me. Let's start now. What's your poison?"

They share a drink in companiable silence, before Lemon gives him an awkward, yet well meant hug and leaves to go home. Wade's got the small cash box, now locked, with the key tucked away in his wallet, so he can take it to the bank the next morning. When the money is safely transferred onto his account, he can start his plan to turn Zoe Hart's home into a real home again.

Lavon Hayes is worried. A month has gone by since he's given his permission and help for the fundraiser and for seven days a week almost 24 hours a day, Wade Kinsella has been running himself ragged. He's working late shifts at the Rammer Jammer and during the day, he's either at the building site, on the road to order or pick up supplies, on the phone bullying people (lessons learned from one miss Breeland) or in a comatose like sleep for perhaps a total of four hours after coming home in the middle of the night. He regularly forgets to eat unless Lavon forces a sandwich down his throat, stinks like a skunk with a mixture of cement, paint and sweat and has so far warded off every offer to lift his burden.

There's nothing he can do for his friend. Though he keeps a close eye on him, Lavon knows this is something Wade needs to do. With every plank sawed and hammered in place, with every tile carved and glued, with every stroke of paint, he is redeeming himself, fighting for forgiveness, whose is irrelevant, proving he is worth more than anyone's disapproval.

Like Noah building his arch, he feels that this is the task he's been given to set the record straight. And it is truly amazing to watch the progress he is making.

For Wade himself, this feels cathartic. He's really doing this. He can see the results immediately and they get more visible every day. Though he did get the original building plans from the town archive and hire an architect to come up with the reconstruction plan and drawings, it really was all the help he got.

It might be hard to explain to others what's going on inside his head, though he thinks Lavon gets it for the most part, but he knows what he's doing and why.

Every time he puts op another wall on the house, a wall in his heart comes tumbling down. For the first time in his life, Wade allows himself to feel, really feel everything, as if airing out the stuffed closet in his brain and laying the skeletons to rest.

There's his anger and pain of losing his mom. As he shouts his accusations to the open skies, (to her for losing the fight, to God for not helping her) he finds release as he hammers away, not caring if he's cursing or crying or muttering in himself since he's alone in his part of the world.

All his insecurities about being a good son, a good brother, a good boyfriend and a good man in general come pouring out of his pores while he lifts heavy objects. His self-loathing must be giving him some kind of super power and he's planning on using it all up, until he no longer has to look in the mirror and see his own weaknesses reflected and enhanced.

Whether the relentless sun is bearing down on him or the rain is coming down hard, he's there. Sometimes he switches on the radio, mostly he prefers the silence, purposefully letting all the previously untouched thoughts come and go.

He watches himself from a distance as he sings his drunken father from the edge of the roof of the hardware store, the town watching as they always do; it's their monthly Bluebell soap opera. Is he a good son for doing this, or a bad one for letting it happen over and over and over again? Should he have had Earl committed years ago?

The rain whispers it's not his fault. His sweat washes away the guilt. The cement covers the pain. What remains is silence. And forgiveness. He's only one man and he's trying, doing the best he can.

He watches himself once more as he entertains a myriad of women. They all merge into one unidentifiable being. Is he a good man for showing them a good time, or a bad one for never really caring (much) for any one of them? Then again, do they care anything about him?

The nails he hammers in the wooded panels pound it into him. He concludes he's neither to blame nor to be applauded for the way he's been living his life so far. It is however time to let the uselessness of this lifestyle go. Another picture forms in his mind. A clear image of the one he wants. He hits the last nail on the head.

She's the kind of person he needs. Not yet who he deserves, but one day, he'll make himself worthy.

He thinks about Jesse. He needs to be a better brother to him. So what if he got away and made something of himself? It wasn't him who appointed Wade to stay at home and be their father's babysitter. He could have gotten out too. It was his own choice for not doing so. The resentment needs to go.

So he lets it go. Late one evening, still tired and smelly from today's labor, he calls his brother and if Jesse's surprised, his voice doesn't reveal it. Hesitantly, then gaining courage and memento, Wade starts talking. Like, really talking. About what he's doing and why. About trying to become a better person and how that includes making amends with Jesse.

He even admits to missing him, which he truly does. They were close once and he's honest and open about needing it back. In reaction to his openness, Jesse opens up too, genuine emotions now all too clear in the slight waver in his voice and the choice of his words. Not everything gets said, but they make an appointment to see each other soon and for the first time in years, when he ends the call, Wade feels the familiar bond they shared before their mother died and he revels in it.

Every evening as he crawls (sometimes literally) into bed, the man in the mirror, though exhausted and filthy, looks a bit more empowered. Calmer. Grown-up and reliable. Someone to be proud of. He likes the change. Who knew aching muscles could feel so good?

A week before Zoe is due to come back, Wade calls in the fire department again to check upon his work, making sure it's habitable and in compliance with all safety rules again. To his relief and pride; all reports come out solid. Zoe's carriage house is deemed safe and sound. And ready, except for her stuff.

Now the fun part can begin. And he actually does need some help with that. Never an expert on girlie things and needs, he charters Rose and AB and drives the girls to Mobile. With an intimate knowledge of Zoe's taste and a quite solid memory of what her place looked like before the fire, the three of them spend an entire weekend picking out furniture, bed linens and accessories. During the day, they haunt the many shops. In the evening, they order whatever they couldn't find in the city online.

In an antique shop, they find some pretty framed pictures of Bluebell during the Civil War and actually some of pre-war New York too. They get both.

On they go. Getting soft carpets for the wooden floor, drapes and blinds for the curtains, bathroom supplies and other stuff. Whatever they can't take with them will be delivered in the next few days.

Zoe has let Lavon know she'll be back on Tuesday and all stuff makes it to the carriage house by Friday morning, giving them four days to decorate the place.

It really is fun. Rose has started to call Wade 'Ty Pennington', a reference he silently takes offense to as he considers the presenter a sissy and the show a sham, with most people still having to put their homes up for foreclosure because someone forgot to tell them about the ridiculous increase in taxes. But hey, she means it as a compliment (he assumes) and she's not a bad kid and an incredible help, so he lets it slide.

More helping hands are arriving by the hour and now that the real hard constructive work is done, Wade takes it, though it's clear to all he is still in charge.

Lavon and George are putting together Zoe's new bookcases and wardrobe. He himself is assembling the antique, handcrafted four poster bed he's found online, ironically thinking this may be the closest he would ever get to her bed again. Oh well, that is not the issue now.

The girls are busying themselves with the less physically demanding jobs like unpacking the vases, statues and smaller items and placing them all around to create a warm feeling of homeliness. Center piece is a framed group picture of all of them in front of the renovated house, with their signatures and some well wishes underneath.

Monday evening rolls around and everything is done. Lavon holds a spontaneous party at the main house, where the entire town drops in to congratulate Wade on the accomplishment of the Herculean task.

Nobody but Lavon can tell how nervous he is. Tomorrow, Zoe will be back. Tomorrow, there's no hiding behind hard helmets and steel boots.

What if she doesn't like it? What if he's gotten it all wrong? What if she calls at the very last moment to tell them she's not coming back after all? What if she is still so angry and disappointed in him that all of his hard work still doesn't matter?

What if she doesn't believe it has been all him in the first place?

Someone hands him a drink and when he looks up, it's to find Lemon looking down on him.

"It's perfect, Wade. A real palace, like I said. And I'm sure she'll see it for what it is. And if she doesn't, I'll just have to move in myself!"

The mere thought of having Lemon as a neighbor makes him choke, but she's not the least bit insulted. Though the house is picture perfect, its location leaves somewhat to be desired, as far as she's concerned. Being wedged in between Wade Kinsella and her ex-fling Lavon Hayes, whom she's not sure she's forgotten all about yet, and owing him rent? No, thanks. She'd rather feed her fingers, one by one, to Burt.

It was meant to get the nervous, fidgety Wade out of his runt and it worked.

"So…you have any idea what time she'll be here tomorrow?"

He shrugs. Of course he knows her flight number and time of arrival by heart.

"Lavon's picking her up in Mobile at ten. So they should be here around eleven, I guess."

"Good. Oh, I can't imagine her reaction when she sees the house. Bet you can't wait."

"I won't be here."

"What? Wade, you of all people need to be here! This is all your work. You got to take the credit for it too!"

"I can't, Lemon. I can't do it. I've been living and breathing this house for months, but now it has to be hers again. And if she wants to thank me, or yell at me, or even simply ignore me, I don't want her to have to do it in front of half the town, because you know people will show up to watch her reaction. I'll go fishing. Be back in the evening."

"But Wade…"

"Don't try to make me change my mind, Lemon. I didn't do this for the glory of it."

"I thought you did this to get her back."

He smiles again, before taking another sip of his drink. How to explain?

"I thought so too when I started. Now, I'm not so sure. I mean, of course I want her back and if making this grand gesture does the trick, I'll be happier than a piglet upon finding a mud pool, but if not…than I've still given myself something even more valuable. The one thing that never should have been solely dependent on Zoe Hart in the first place."

"What's that?"

"Pride."

With a nod, he kisses her cheek again and leaves her standing there. He doesn't notice the look of admiration and indeed pride in her eyes.

At around midnight, he leaves the dwindling crowd and heads back to his own house, passing the gleaming carriage house on the way. The smell of wet paint still hangs in the air, or perhaps it's in him, embedded in his skin, like a permanent perfume. It's not so bad, though.

He was surprised at what he said to Lemon, but he knows he was right. He needed to build himself a backbone, some self esteem. A rite of passage or something like that. During the many hard labor hours, he's come to understand he has never given himself the chance to see something through, always ready to assume he would fail anyway.

Looking back, he doesn't know if he's given up on himself first or if it was the people around him, but it hardly matters. Setting the bar low for yourself, just because nobody has ever been bothered to set it higher is a lame excuse. It's a cop-out. It's a coward's way. And he's decided to stop being that cowardice man. From now on, whatever he wants to do, he'll go ahead and do it. Accomplish it. Achieve it. He might stumble and fall along the way, but he'll just have to learn to crawl up, dust off and keep going.

Hopefully with Zoe at his side, but she's become more of a catalyst than a goal on itself. He wants her back, but more than that, he wants to be able to move on with his head held high regardless of whether or not that's in the stars.

Because it can only be in the stars if she sees the change in him. Sees it, accepts it and changes right along with him. There will be no more 'casual sex' or 'casually monogamous' mind games. No more bringing books to dates because she thinks they have too little in common to make it through one bloody picnic. No more parading George Tuckers, Jesse Kinsella's or Judsons in front of him as if to illustrate what she wants him to become.

Wade Kinsella is Wade Kinsella and though he's upgraded his version and user friendliness, he's finally reached a point where he's built enough self-esteem not to be bothered by their non-existent superiority. So if that's still what she wants or expects him to be, than at least he'll be able to walk away without being crushed. He'll be sad, but he'll live.

It's in this state of mind that he packs his fishing gear and drives of early in the morning, taking one last glance at the carriage house before hitting the gas.

_Next installment...Zoe comes home..._

_Reviews still welcome. I love them._


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **Thank you, thank you, thank you! All the reviews, the followers, you all make me sooooo happy. That's why I'm rewarding you with a nice, long chapter. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: Not mine. No, really. Don't ask me again. Just read the story (please).

**After the fire **

As agreed, Lavon Hayes is waiting for his best friend when she emerges from the crowd in the arrivals hall of Mobile Airport, dragging a ridiculous amount of cases and bags with her. After the phone call, she has to admit she got a bit shop crazy. Knowing there weren't any clothes left in Bluebell, she made a mental list of what had still been there and went shopping to compensate for her loss. Which could be taken both metaphorically as well as literally.

"Lavon!" She cries out when she spots him. She is happy to see his wide smiling face.

He catches her in a warm, big hug.

"Big Z! Welcome home!"

She smiles in thanks as his big hands effortlessly take over most of her stuff and he leads her to the parking lot. His car is spotted easily and gratefully, she sinks in. The flight was awful. Bumpy and uncomfortable, with a wailing kid and an oblivious mom next to her.

To an anxious Zoe, this was pure torture, the sound of the child clashing with the anticipation of seeing her burnt-down home. Though she knew Lavon would be there to soften the blow, a blow it would still be.

Not to mention the heartache of seeing Wade again.

She's still not one bit wiser when it comes to handling her feelings for him. She's still angry, still hurt, but she also knows she loves him and always will.

Will it be devastating or easy to be around him? Will she start dating again? Will he? Will they speak at all to each other? Will it be nasty sniping or painfully polite conversations?

Lavon is curiously silent during the drive home. Of course he asks her all about her time in New York, but she gets the feeling he prefers her to do all of the talking, filling the void and preventing her from asking questions he's not happy to answer.

So she obliges and tells him about late shifts at the hospital or the plays and movies she's seen until, finally, the road to the plantation comes in sight. Right before he can take it though, Lavon stops. He takes a scarf she assumed was AB's from the glove compartment and hands it to her.

Giving him a surprised look, she runs it through her fingers.

"Would you do me a favor and blindfold yourself, Zoe?"

"Why?"

"A surprise. Please?"

She doesn't really like it, but he's nervous for some reason, so she nods and ties the scarf around her face, covering her eyes. After making sure she can't see a thing, she feels the car get in motion again. This path is so familiar to her, she knows exactly where they are without him telling her. Again, the car comes to a halt in front of the place where the carriage house stands. Or rather, stood.

Bracing herself, she gets out with the help of her friend, who leads her to face the house.

"Take the blindfold off, Zoe."

She does as she's told, with trembling fingers, bracing herself for the sight of…

AB, Lemon, George, Brick, Rose, Tom and half a dozen other townspeople, all standing in front of…A fully restored carriage house.

She gasps. Turns to Lavon, who shrugs. Turns back to the house. Takes another step toward it, as if afraid it'll disappear, like a phantom image. Ignoring her neighbors as if they're totally invisible, she walks up the steps, still in a dreamlike state, the solid porch steps taking her weight with ease. The smell of fresh paint still lingers and she touches the buttercup yellow wooden panels, half expecting the vibrant color to rub off and onto her fingertips.

An unknown emotion sweeps over her. As far as surprises go, this is by far the best one she's ever gotten. Half smiling, half crying, she turns to her friend. How can she ever thank him? And the others. Were they in on it?

"Lavon, this is…wow. This is…this…"

He stops her stuttering there.

"Don't thank me, Zoe. This wasn't me."

"Well, I suppose you hired a company, but still," she suggests, not understanding this fidgety man who resembles her friend.

"I didn't. This…this wasn't me, Z."

"Then who…?"

The question fades from her lips when the answer dawns on her. There's one person missing from this little gathering. It can only be for one reason.

"Wade."

It's not even a question and Lavon's nod isn't really needed. Though his explanation completely blows her away.

"He did it all, Zoe. Every brick, every tile, every wooden panel, every nail. He accepted no help, was here every single day. The whole town pitched in when it came to the funds that were needed and later with bringing in the furniture, but even the fundraiser was Wade's idea."

"Wade built me a house."

"Yeah."

"Oh my God."

Tears fill her eyes. She can picture him working on her home. Up to a point of exhaustion. It's just…nobody has ever done this much for her, let alone without help. And now…the man who's hurt her more than she figured possible has done the impossible and built her a home.

Wade Kinsella built her a home.

It's too much to take in. Her hand lingers on the door knob, unsure if she should go in. The gathered townspeople are holding their collective breaths. Then she decides against it. Disappointed, the small crowd groans, but she ignores them. Turning to Lavon, she asks him:

"Where is he?"

Her head automatically turns in the direction of the gate house, but even before Lavon shakes his head, she knows the place is empty.

"He's not there, Zoe. He's gone fishing."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. I guess he didn't want to spring his presence onto you, demanding your gratitude when he wasn't sure how you would feel about it."

"When will he be back?"

"Tonight I guess. Why?"

"I'm not going in until he's back. I need…he needs to be here. I need him to be here."

Lavon simply nods, not letting any emotion show. He's learned the hard way that he needs to stay well away from both his tenants and best friends when it comes to their relationship status. Though he still holds a little sparkle of hope that these two will figure out they are exactly what the other one needs most.

Discreetly, Lavon gets rid of everybody but AB. Disappointed voices rise all around them, but Lavon respects Zoe's choice and sends the good citizens of Bluebell on their way. For the rest of the day, Zoe hangs around the main house, chatting with her best friends, until Lavon leaves for a meeting and AB too has to leave to run some errands for her next catering job.

Alone now, she idly fiddles with the TV remote, though nothing on the screen captures her attention. She doesn't want to go into town, where she has to answer questions about her odd behavior this morning. How can she explain to anyone why she hasn't set one foot in it yet? Even talking about the house feels wrong, somehow. Wade must be the first one she shares it with.

He deserves as much, even if he rode off to nowhere to avoid just that.

As if she would be angry at him.

Yet, it's hard to describe what she feels. Months ago, when she left, she was heartbroken and forgiveness was not an option she could even contemplate. She needed the anger of the betrayal as her fuel, knowing that if she gave into the pain of missing him, she would be rendered useless and paralyzed. As if admitting she was still thinking about him gave him more power over him than he deserved to have.

She's witnessed what having an affair outside of marriage (or at least a solid, committed relationship like she thought she had with Wade) did to people. Heck, she wouldn't even exist if her mother had known how to keep her clothes on! And though she's (mostly) happy to be alive, she's seen what the knowledge of his daughter not being his biological child at all has done to her father. And to her. Suddenly, her father became a stranger. Her mother turned out to be a bad woman who hurt her daddy, her idol, her example.

And even if her contact with both her parents has been restored (though not between the two of them) and is actually pretty good these days, she has always sworn it would never happen to her. She would not allow anyone to betray her like that.

Until it did happen to her and she hadn't seen it coming.

Now, according to her own principles, she should hate Wade. Hate him and never forgive him. And it might have been a lot easier if he hadn't built her a house.

What does it mean? What does he want from her now? Expect from her? Does he believe she'll just get back together with him and act like nothing else had happened? Like they'll just pick up where they have left off before he rolled into bed with some floozy?

Does he expect her to show her gratitude in her new bedroom?

Does she? Does she want to?

Knowing he'll never force himself upon her, the question is not just about what he wants and/or expects to happen next, it's about what she wants too.

She's grateful, for sure, but how will that show? A simple hug won't do, for more reasons than one. Flowers or a gift are too contrived. A long talk about what they both want to happen would be best, but communicating isn't their strong point, now is it?

Zoe moans and leaves the house. Lavon won't be back for another few hours and she's bored without him. It's now almost dinner time and she saunters to the gate house, hoping Wade will show up soon. She sits herself down in the wicker chair and waits, eyes focused on the dusty road in front of her, but every now and then wandering over to the other side of the pond, where her pretty house is waiting for her. She'll have to wait for Wade first, she knows.

Darkness falls around her. She's tired and hungry and cold, but still waiting. Finally, a pair of headlights doom up at the end of the road, rapidly coming closer. After a few more yards, she recognizes Wade's muscle car. Her heartbeat accelerates.

He stops in front of the house, gets out. Greets her with a simple nod and a smile, seemingly not at all surprised to find her here.

"Hi, Doc."

Dear God, she's beautiful. All long slim legs and shiny hair. How can he still be so surprised by that? She's still just like he remembers, only better because she's real. Even though she looks nervous and she's fidgeting and biting her lower lip to shreds. Her voice falters a little when she answers his greeting.

"Hi Wade."

He takes the steps to the porch and follows her gaze as it wanders over to the carriage house.

"I expected a ruin when I came home."

"I know."

"It's not."

"Nope."

"It's…"

"It's your home, Zoe."

"I know…I just…"

"So waddaya think?"

"I don't know. I haven't been inside yet."

He recoils a little, not expecting that answer.

"Why not?"

Her brown eyes finally focus on his and he can read her conflicting emotions in them. There's happiness and gratitude, but also fear and insecurity. He's given her a house to come back to, but she's nowhere near home. He's taken that part away from her before the fire destroyed the rest and he's not sure if he can ever restore that. For all the soul searching he did these past few weeks, he hasn't come to a solution for her heartbreak. The only option he has is to show her, day by day, that the Wade Kinsella who was capable of hurting her like that is dead and buried underneath the new foundations of her home. Never to be resurrected.

"Because you built it."

It throws him off balance. Does she really hate her house because he built it? He didn't expect her to be over the moon happy and forgiving and madly in love with him again, but he has to admit her total rejection hurts one hell of a lot.

She must have seen his confusion and pain and is quick to explain herself.

"I'm sorry, that came out all wrong. I mean, I didn't think it would be very…I don't know…grateful to you, I suppose? I want you to give me the grand tour. I want you to show me what you did. Please."

He smiles now.

"You do realize this is exactly what I was trying to avoid by going fishing, right?"

"Yes. Too bad for you I waited. You should take the credit when you've earned it. So please, come in with me."

At his nod, they walk over to the Carriage house, hands close but not touching. Taking the steps leading up to the front porch, she reaches for the door knob, turns it and enters.

She steps on a hard wooden floor, polished until it shines like a mirror. Beautiful, colored rugs are placed along the hallway. She takes off her heels to feel the soft woolen fabric between her toes. A small smile adorns her lips.

So far, so good.

Step by step, their progress is slow, but there's so much to see. The new lamps casting a soft glow from each corner, the antique mirror and matching coat rack. The watercolor drawings of Southern landscapes and flowers. She laughs when she spots a drawing of an armadillo. Wade relaxes a little at the sound. This might not be so bad.

In the living room, there are more soft carpets and a fluffy couch, with a lot of pillows and a warm throw rug, all in vibrant colors she likes so much. It's a comfortable, cozy place, pretty inviting after a day's hard work.

Completely silent and in awe, they venture into the bedroom. Zoe gasps as she sees her bed. It's as close to her dream bed as anyone could come and she's amazed at how well Wade truly knows her. The duvet is inviting, the quilt was handmade with love by the Belles. It's enough to make her choke.

Not wanting to show her inner turmoil to her silent companion, she retreats into the bathroom. What emotional harm could befall her in a bathroom after all? She's wrong. From the soft towels, the bath slippers and terrycloth robe, it breathes relaxation and comfort. And when she opens the shower stall, she again has to choke back her tears. There, perfectly aligned on the shelf, are all her favorite bath products, including her over the top, French frou-frou shampoo he once used as a laundry detergent.

"How…?"

"It's a miracle what you can find online these days. Though most of the online ordering was done by AB and Rose."

"Still…it's…"

"It's nothing, Zoe."

"No! Don't say that. This is not nothing! This is far from nothing! This is you getting into my mind, reading all my dreams and bringing them to life. This is…there's nothing I wouldn't have gotten for myself. This is…oh God, Wade…"

She crumples in front of him. Carefully, hesitantly, he reaches out to her, not quite sure if any physical contact between them is welcome.

Yet, she crawls into his arms without any reserves, too tired to fight it. He simply holds her, lets her cry, look around, touch things and cry some more. When his shirt is soaked and his knees are cramped by this awkward crouching position, he leads her to the couch and sets her down. She's calmed down a bit and is now hiccupping. He gets her a glass of water and she drinks it in huge gulps, coughing and spluttering, but finally relaxing. She sets the now empty glass on the table in front of her, then asks him a very difficult, but not at all unexpected question.

"Why?"

He takes a seat next to her, rubbing his neck in his signature nervous gesture.

"Why did I do this?"

She nods.

"Because I needed to figure out the answer to the other 'why did I do it' question. I needed to figure out what I have been doing lately and what I really want out of my life. Hurting the woman I love is not one of them and I guess I needed to start somewhere to make amends. To show I can build something, not just destroy it."

"Show me?"

"Among others. But mostly, show myself. Do something I could be proud of. It's been a damn long time since I did something I could be proud of and the fact I could do it for you made it all the more powerful."

"I'm proud of you too, you know."

"Thanks. It means a lot to me. And I know it doesn't automatically mean that we're getting back together, but hopefully it means that you can work on forgiving me. And trusting me. Perhaps even become my friend."

He knows he sounds hopeful and he knows it might be too much to ask at this point, but she asked him and for once, his answer was completely honest and honestly complete. She doesn't answer, but her smile is sweet.

"So did you figure it out? What you want out of life?"

He nods, carefully picking the words to explain himself.

"I think I did. I mean, the dreams were always the same. They still are. I want to own my own bar, put my own drinks and meals on the menu. Have bands play there and play with them sometimes. I want to create an atmosphere of fun and relaxation."

"And for yourself?"

"I want a place to come home to. A woman who looks at me with love and pride in her eyes and to whom I can give all my love and pride in return. I want to help Earl get his act back together, I want to make amends with Jesse. I want my momma to look down on me and see the son she always said I could be. I want to be known as the man you can build on, rely on."

"It's quite a list. But nothing on it is impossible."

"I know. It won't be easy though."

"Neither was building this house, I venture."

"I guess it wasn't supposed to be."

They remain silent for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. Until Zoe turns to him again.

"Wade, you remember what you said about wanting a woman who looks at you with love and pride?"

"Yes. What about that?"

"I…I think, maybe…it could still be me. Perhaps not right now, but…in time…unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless you don't want me."

"Zoe…I'll always want you."

The look in his eyes as he says this is unbelievably soft and warm and it makes Zoe wonder how they got into this position where she's about one step away from begging him to take her back when he's the one who should be doing the begging.

Yet, by listening to him just now, she has come to one crystal clear conclusion. Whoever this man is, sitting on her new sofa, he's not the broken man she left behind months ago. He's matured, calmed down, as if the child on the inside has finally caught up with the man he is on the outside. He's more resilient now and if she's not careful, he might leave her behind too.

It's not like he was the only one who needed to do some growing up. She's honest enough to admit that now. Her game of tag with George wasn't the epitome of maturity either, now was it?

"So…now what?"

It's an honest question and he's right to ask it. However, she's thrown for a loop. All the while travelling, sitting and waiting at airports or in the taxi, and high up in the air, she has thought about what to say to Wade Kinsella. Or what not to say. How to act. And just as she figured that she would simply ignore him for now, he's done this.

Built her a house. A dream house even. Showing her that all this time, he had listened. Had remembered her preferences even outside the bedroom.

So what's between ignoring someone and having a loving relationship with them?

"Friends?"

He mulls this over, then nods.

"Yeah. I think I can do that. But eh…what about dating?"

"Friends don't usually date, Wade."

"I know."

He looks lost but is trying hard not to. He knows this is the best he could have hoped for.

"I mean other people. Will you, Zoe?"

She sighs, running a hand through her hair. He desperately wants to run his own hand through it too, but doesn't. Friends don't do that either.

"I really don't even wanna think about dating right now. And it's not like I have so many options left. so eh…I don't know. Eventually. Maybe. How about you?"

He thinks long and hard. Can't possibly see himself develop a serious relationship with any woman but her and he's pretty sure he's done with the casual one night stands.

"Not now. Celibacy seems to suit me."

"Wonder how long that will last."

He smiles, but doesn't answer. He's surprised himself these past few weeks. It's not just that he hardly had the time to even look at a woman, he can't honestly say he misses it so much. It's really weird, but there you have it.

He still has a point to make though.

"I just…I guess what I meant to say was that, if you do start dating, I won't make trouble for you. I'll hate it, I'm sure, but I'll keep my jealousy to myself. Unless the guy treats you like a complete jerk. If I can't take back the pain I've caused you, I can and will make sure no undeserving idiot hurts you again."

"Friend and bodyguard all wrapped in one. I like that."

"Then that's it. Friend and bodyguard. Now, friend, want to order a pizza? I'm starving."

Weeks fly by and Zoe finds her routine again. She's relatively happy, goes out with AB and Rose sometimes and spends time with Lavon. The clinic is running well too. Everything is as it should be.

Her friendship with Wade is…what it is.

Greetings over breakfast, sharing dinner every now and then (it's not a date, mind you), him repairing her car, she getting him a six-pack of beer as a payment, which they will then drink (well, he'll drink the beer and she'll get some wine he still keeps for her) while watching a movie or playing a video game. Both careful not to suggest a strip version or let their conversations turn into something hinting at what was or might have been if only…

She's been taking AB's advice and has been casually testing the waters of the dating pool again, hoping that her chances in slow-paced Bluebell might be better than in competitive, fast New York. She simply wasn't ready back then, she decides. It's the easiest way to explain her many failed dates while she was there.

Her first date is a guy she's been set up with by Lavon, of all people. He's doing something 'in advertizing', and knows Lavon from his NFL days, when all star players were at one time approached to do a commercial campaign.

Adam is a nice man, for sure. Quite good looking, charming, funny and attentive. Jewish too, which would make her mom happy. Sadly, he's also full of himself. Sure, Zoe takes her job seriously; it wouldn't do for a doctor not to. But to talk about advertizing like the world would come to an end (perhaps the economy would, she can admit to that) if, for instance, they can only contract the second best sprinter or a B-list celebrity for their commercial is simply too far-fetched for her. Plus, she's been listening to the self-important clientele of her mother from the time she was a little girl and always had trouble keeping a straight face.

Adam's exit after a second date and a less than satisfactory kiss.

Next comes Brody. Poor Brody's a widower. His wife was killed by a kid driving and texting at the same time not even a year ago. Clearly it's too soon for the man to start thinking of replacing her; he's not ready to date. His late wife was a pretty girl, as she can see by the many, many (many) pictures she gets to see during their one single, awkward and stilted evening at Fancy's.

Drinking her wine and not saying too much, she lets him rant on and on about teenagers and their lack of responsibility and what he would do to the kid who took his wife's life. Using his napkin to dry his tears, he apologizes profusely. She tells him there's no need. If anything, this night is proof she has certainly improved her bedside manners.

He takes her home and, too spooked by his own behavior, never calls again. Zoe wishes him the very best. Perhaps he can try in another few months.

Carl's the third lucky contender. By now, AB wonders out loud if Zoe is working her way through the entire alphabet, one man at a time. Just the thought of 23 more dates to go earn her a glare from her poor tormented friend. There's no way she'll be able to wade her way through two dozen more potential love candidates.

Wade…wrong choice of word. And the W is 20 more dates away…

Carl's cute. Nice. Dark-haired, dimples. Muscular. An ex police officer who now owns a security company. Ironically, they meet thanks to Wade, who has hired Carl to check out the safety of the Rammer Jammer after hearing about some recent breaking and entering problems in pubs around the county. Under the guise of offering her a free check-up of the safety of the clinic, he gives her a calling card and after discussing it with her girlfriends, she decides to take a chance.

Wade , who must have seen the exchange, tightly clams his mouth shut. This is none of his business.

At their date night, Carl walks into the Rammer Jammer with a confident stride, his biceps straining against the fabric of his dark blue shirt. Clearly, he works out and clearly he wants every other person he meets to see it too. He looks fine and he knows it.

For the first time, Zoe feels ill at ease. This guy's idea of flirting makes Wade look like a choir boy. The first time he puts his hand on her knee underneath the table, she wriggles away, regretting her choice of dress for the evening. He doesn't get the hint and puts it back, a bit higher than before.

Zoe shoots up and escapes to the bathroom, taking her sweet time to reapply her lipstick, until she can't find a valid excuse to stay locked in there any longer. The moment she comes back out and hesitantly sits down, his hand's back too, this time reaching up the hem of her skirt.

There's been no need so far to call in her bodyguard, but now she's glad Wade's keeping an eye on her. One panicked look in his direction is enough for him to none too kindly 'persuade' her date to leave the premises. Though Carl is no man to be intimidated easily, the way Wade comes at him is so threatening, so self-assured, he gives up, though not before snarling every insult under the sun at a relieved Zoe, who doesn't care what he calls her as long as she can watch him leave.

A little scared to go home alone in case Carl's out there waiting for her, she stays at the Rammer Jammer until closing time, nursing a wine on the house to 'soothe her ruffled feathers', or so Wade claims.

The very same sweet Wade safely gets her home and even waits until he sees her lights being switched on before walking over to his own place.

Wade, sweet Wade. Her friend. But still, also the man who broke her heart by cheating on her. She wishes for that memory to stop popping up every single time she sees his hesitant, kind smile, or hears the hesitation in his voice whenever he invites her to play a game with him, like he's sure she'll decline anyway. But she is still somewhat hopeful it will. Soon. Because she knows how hard he's trying to be her friend and keep his distance as promised. She also knows damn well she's hurting him and that it's really unfair to keep him dangling.

Perhaps it's time to cut the cord and tell him to move on from her, but she's too selfish to do that, clutching her small thread of leftover bond with him like it's a life preserver. It might be exactly that.

_Up next: How's Wade handling Zoe's ABC of dates? _

_Reviews are awesome! Thanks for leaving me one!_


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **Again, thanks for the positive reviews. They brighten up my days. And to my new followers: welcome and thank you too. I hope this new chapter will make you as happy as your support makes me!

**Disclaimer**: It's been a whole week since I told you they're not mine. Don't tell me you've forgotten already? On with the story, I say...

Wade himself has been busy too. To everyone's surprise, he struck a deal with Lemon of all people and bought the Rammer Jammer, with him in charge and her as a silent partner. At first sight, the place hasn't changed all that much, at least not in appearance. But slowly and steadily, Wade places his own mark on his beloved bar. The simple menu gets a rigorous update, he introduces some pretty incredible cocktails and every Friday evening now the Rammer Jammer hosts an open mike night, which gradually gathers a growing crowd of both audience and participants, especially when the boss himself picks up his guitar.

The songs he chooses are soft country songs with lyrics full of pain and longing. It's the only time he allows himself to express his sincere regret through words. Not his own words, because his own never amounted to much.

Zoe's there for a few sessions like this and not only does she feel fiercely proud of him, she has to admit, also feels her love grow again, choking the last vestiges of her resentment and doubt in its wake. She quits the dating ABC then and there.

Much unlike her; Wade hasn't had a date since their break-up. He's courteous with women, still knows how to throw in the charm, still gets his sweet deal of offerings and phone numbers written on napkins and slipped in either shirt of jeans pocket (for the daring ones), but when it comes to taking them home, he just…doesn't. Doesn't really feel like it, suddenly very aware of the porch lights on the other side of the pond.

To Zoe, he's sincerely trying to be the friend he promised her he would be. It's almost exactly the same as the days before they started their casual monogamous…whatever (seems so long ago now, when life was still easy), perhaps only without the sexual innuendo. It's not like he doesn't want her (there's no cure for the constant ache for her in his every pore), it's just that he's not willing to jeopardize this so carefully blooming, real thing they have.

The pride he sees in her eyes whenever she walks into his place (his bar, his dream come true!) and the anticipation he feels every time he presents her with another concoction to try is worth more than the risk of losing her by moving too fast now.

He even keeps his promise of keeping his distance whenever she comes in with a man in tow, dressed in something pretty and being all laughs and smiles. He's learned, even practiced, to keep his face straight, so he doesn't show his relief when yet another potential love interest is dismissed. Though he wonders why none of them make it to round two. Carl was a douche and he's already got a sweet deal with another security company, but that Adam guy wasn't too bad…

Could it be she's not interested because…hope flares. He lets it, but still doesn't make a move. He might still be wrong.

Sometimes, after a long day, when he's alone in his bed, the doubt creeps in. This whole friendship thing is grating on his nerves. Despite of the fact he likes the man he's turning into, despite the fact he now calls his brother at least twice a month and they have plans to go fishing together soon, he's lonely. And it's not the kind of loneliness that a quick romp in the hay with a random willing body can cure. He still knows who he needs and clings to the shimmer of hope she gave him upon her homecoming day.

He merely wonders if he won't go bat shit crazy before she deems him worthy of her attention again. Attention of the none-friendly kind. Her friendship is a good thing, but can't quench his thirst for more.

Halloween comes along. He's done quickly with his costume this year. Bob the builder it is. Zoe's very secretive about her costume, no matter how much he whines, pleads and bribes her. Lavon and AB don't get anything out of her either. Lavon just moping that she told him he 'wouldn't get it anyway'.

Interestinger and interestinger…

Finally, after much coaxing, she comes out of the bedroom to accompany Wade, Lavon and AB to the celebration at the town square.

She's wearing an old-fashioned yellow dress, a yellow raincoat, yellow pumps and an umbrella. A bag is slung over her shoulder. Her eyes meet Wade's and suddenly he remembers their conversation the year before. He wolf whistles and laughs.

"So you are really okay with this?"

"With you being the Morton Salt girl's sexy older sister? Hell yeah!"

"You don't look so bad yourself either."

"Walked around like this all summer."

Perhaps it's wishful thinking on his part, but he's sure the once-over she's giving him is one of appreciation. And not for his building skills either. He'll need a gallon of beer to cool himself down.

Neither one notices the look that's exchanged between their friends.

A few hours later, the party's in full swing. Though he's off work for tonight, Wade can't help getting himself involved in mixing some real nasty looking but incredible tasting drinks for the occasion. While trying to imitate Tom Cruise in Cocktail (and glad they're using paper cups for this open air party), he knows he has attracted the attention of a couple of pretty twenty something year old girls from one town over. They're flirting and giggling like mad and for the first time since his self-chosen celibacy, his determination wavers and he's seconds away from pouncing upon his prey. It's been a while, but he's certain the outcome will be satisfactory.

The redhead really is pretty. Nice legs, nice rack and clearly in for a party of two, far away from the party of two hundred. He knows he doesn't even have to play his full set of cards to get her to come home with him and do whatever he wants. Perhaps…just this once…he's not a monk after all, he's a healthy man, he has his needs…

A wink, a roguish smile and bingo! She detaches herself from her gaggle of friends and confidently strides over to him, hips swaying enticingly.

But then his gaze lands on a tiny brunette dressed in yellow and his mind's made up. He gives the redhead a drink (on him) and another smile, but pulls his arm back the moments she's about to write her phone number on it with a lurid red lipstick.

He can't. Can't cheat on her, even if they're technically not even dating. It's not fair to his heart. Or Zoe's, if she even still cares. Or the redhead's, who might be into it now, but might regret it in the morning once she finds out how jaded and tired he really is. In fact, he might not even be able to perform at all. No, best to let it go and go back to just watching the fluid movements of his neighbor. His friend.

Damn it all.

Zoe sees yet another girl walking away from Wade with a huff, whispering something to her friends about how this guy is all pretence and no game.

She does wonder about it. What's he waiting for? Her approval? Her permission? Why would he feel he needs it? They're friends, she wants him to be happy, doesn't want to stand in his way if he wants female company, like she expected he would at some point. She can do the gracious things and take a step back. Like he did whenever she tried to date.

Tried and failed. Just like him.

What are they doing, really?

She can't help herself and looks over to where he's now standing alone behind the makeshift bar in the middle of the square. Her eyes meet his.

There's a look in his that takes her aback, mainly because he can't conceal it fast enough while she knows she wasn't supposed to see it at all.

It's raw, raw and real and it lasts for all of a second, before he realizes she's caught him in the act of…of what? He looks away, suddenly uncomfortable and looking for a way out.

At least that's not so hard. He simply drops the mixing cup he's been holding and strides over to his car, ignoring the clicks of her high heels following him.

His hands are anything but steady as he fumbles with the keys, dropping them twice before he calms down enough to actually pick the right key and put it in the lock of his ancient beloved muscle car. By that time of course, Zoe's caught up with him and he feels a tentative small hand on his arm.

With an almost rude, desperate gesture, he shrugs it off. He needs to escape. Now.

"Wade…"

It takes all his willpower not to look around at her.

"Zoe…just…just don't. Please. Let me go."

Her hands drops from his arm, hanging idly beside her. He can hear her panting, hear the tears hitched in her breath. Ignores it. His own erratic breathing is worrying him enough.

Without looking at her, he gets in his car, starts it and drives off at full speed, leaving her standing there, surrounded by the cloud of dust from the sand being swept up by his tires.

Maybe it was wrong to avoid another conversation with him. He doesn't think it was. There's nothing left to say. Whatever friendship they've been building these past few months, it's over and done with. He can't pretend to be her friend any longer.

Not when he loves her like he does.

_Need help. Not doing well. Plz meet cabin._

_On my way, bro_

He has no idea why he texted his brother of all people, but Jesse was the first he could think of. He's closely enough related to care, yet distant enough not to be influenced by nosy neighbors and the town's general gossip.

Plus, if there ever was a master of evading problems, it's Jesse, coming from a long line of Kinsella men who have no idea how to deal with their emotions. He may learn a trick or two.

He's quite relieved when the sees another car come up the small dirt path leading up to the secluded cabin. The tall, slim figure of his brother gets out, carrying a camouflage print duffle bag over his shoulder. Upon seeing Wade sitting on the front steps, twisting a beer bottle in his hands, he drops the bag, looking at the solitary figure of the younger man with concern in his eyes.

He's seen his share of army buddies at the end of their wits and he recognizes the bewildered look in the eyes of his younger, estranged little brother. He's proud, in a strange way, that Wade texted him and he can only hope he can be of any real help. This time.

Jesse knows now what their mother meant when she told him off, years ago, for teasing his little brother for setting free the fireflies his friends had caught in jar. He had thought this was a pretty geeky thing to do, yet momma, after hugging Wade for his action, took him into the kitchen to have a word with him.

"Jesse, instead of tormenting Wade, you should look out for him. Be his brother. There might come a time when you'll really need each other."

"Me? Needing that little slime ball?"

"Yes, Jesse Kinsella. You'll need him and he needs you now too and later even more, maybe. Just…promise me you'll keep an eye out for him. Even if you don't know why I'm asking you yet."

He of course had promised her. There was very little any of the male members of their family could refuse their beautiful, strong willed, kind mother and wife.

He thinks he was eleven when she told him this, Wade was nine. Of course, a little over a year later, she was gone. And she was right. They did need each other.

Too bad they were Kinsella's, all of them. Too bad that denial and evasion was in all of their DNA. Their father found solace in rum, beer and whiskey bottles and plenty of them. Jesse found his in picking endless fights at school, sometimes with boys older than he was and twice his size, until an Army recruiter pushed a flyer into his hands and sealed the deal for him. He left as soon as he got his high school diploma and enlisted, forgetting the promise an eleven year old boy had made to his mother about his only sibling.

And how about that sibling? How about Wade? Jesse is ashamed to admit he has no idea how his kid brother has dealt with the blow of helplessly watching his family fall apart. He knows how he struggled to keep his grades up, keep his dad from literally drowning himself, and keep two odd jobs at the same time in order to buy the bare necessities in food and household stuff his father couldn't care less about.

At seventeen, when Jesse left, his own escape was paramount. Now, almost twice that age, he readily admits he was selfish and cruel, leaving Wade to keep his head above water all by himself. At barely fifteen.

And he managed it. He's extremely proud of the man his geeky, scrawny little bro has become over the years. Where Jesse, in hindsight, realizes he needed the discipline of the Army to build him into a man, Wade and only Wade is responsible for his own growth, especially these past few months, after one stupid night of insecurities and expected failure cost him the chance he had of something real with someone who might have truly loved him.

His redemption is remarkable. Though he's not yet seen the reconstructed carriage house, both Wade and Lavon have sent him some pictures and it looks incredible. And a hell of a lot of work for one man alone, but he believed the stories about Wade working on it day and night without a shadow of a doubt.

Gone also, he heard, are the herds of long-legged, big-breasted, vapor-headed floozies coming and going, crawling through the gate house like an endless centipede. It's a freaking miracle his brother hasn't ended up with any venereal disease or paying a fortune in alimony for an entire Kindergarten full of plaid clad mini-Kinsella's.

Yeah, Wade's certainly grown up. And in need of just that last little push. But not yet, this'll take time. Good thing they have plenty of that.

Walking past his brother, he squeezes his shoulder in an unexpected, friendly gesture. He puts the bag next to the bed and grabs himself a bottle of beer from the small fridge in the kitchenette. Then, ignoring the cold breeze, he goes outside again, nudging Wade, who scoots over to let him sit.

For long minutes, the brothers just sit there, sipping their drinks, looking straight ahead. It's a good silence, a promising one.

They have plenty of time to talk.

Which he does. Slowly but surely, perhaps because Jesse doesn't push him, Wade starts talking. About nothing important at first. But as the hours stretch and no judgment passes his older brother's lips, he feels himself open up, like a cork ready to pop from a champagne bottle.

It's not all fun and games either. Accusations fly, because he still, after more than fifteen years, can't understand how Jesse could have left him behind with his drunken dad and the entire town breathing down his neck, waiting like a pack of hyena's for him to fail on his own.

Wade's found out that his thoughts come up easier when he's being active, so he challenges his brother to a wood chopping competition. They do need to get the fireplace going anyway.

Challenge accepted, both men grab an axe and start slamming away. Sweat pouring down his back, heart racing, breath panting, Wade starts ranting.

"Fifteen, Jesse! I was fifteen and the only people I should have been able to count on, all turned their backs on me!"

Thump! Throwing the split halves of a log on the pile and wiping his face with the hem of his shirt, Jesse answers.

"I know, Wade. I was selfish, I had no idea how to handle taking care of business that shouldn't have been mine to handle in the first place. Please don't forget I was only twelve when she died. Now it's no use to blame Earl, not any more at least, but neither one of us was prepared for the ramifications of losing her."

"So you left?"

"Yes. I'm not proud, but I figured nobody would miss me much anyway. Hell, Wade, you might still think you're worthless, you might think I have an ego tall as a skyscraper, but I always knew you were the strongest of the two of us, at least when it came to your iron will."

"Calling me stubborn, Jess?"

"If the shoe fits."

"Fits you too."

"True. But you're using it more wisely, at least these days."

"I was jealous of you. For being able to just disappear."

"I was jealous of you too, bro. I was convinced you were loved a lot more than I was. By Earl, by momma, by the people in town. There would be plenty of grown-ups ready to help you out."

It earns him an incredulous glare.

"Really, Jesse? That's your bullshit excuse? People will bud in if the kid gets too filthy? If his teeth start to rot? If he doesn't show up at school for another day?"

"Not an excuse, it's just the way I saw it. Back then. I was the big boy who was getting too old to be cuddled, who was always told he was getting too old to do the stuff he liked. To be a better role model for his geeky little brother. While you were forever momma's baby boy and you could still crawl into bed with her to watch a movie. You still confided in her. I felt I couldn't."

"She wouldn't have pushed you away, Jess. She wasn't like that."

It's a whisper, but there's a generous amount of venom in the words. Jackie Kinsella may have been dead for years, Wade is not about to let her precious memory get butchered by his spiteful sibling.

"I know, Wade, at least now I do. Back then I thought it was childish to still want her hugs, to still need her touch. The more people told me I was growing up, I was the oldest, I had to be the strongest, the more I figured I was no longer entitled to be momma's boy. I let that be your part and pretended I wasn't jealous. That snuggling with mommy was for babies."

It may be tears running down his cheeks, but it may also be sweat.

Sweat it has to be. So sweat it is.

"Doesn't mean I didn't need it, craved for it. Doesn't mean I regretted not just admitting it after she passed. I was twelve years old, Wade. Just as much a child as you were."

It starts to drizzle, but neither man seems to notice. Between the drops of perspiration on their backs and foreheads, between the tear streaks on their cheeks, a single drop of rain doesn't hinder them. If anything, it's a brilliant cover-up for the raw emotions they have kept hidden from each other as well as themselves for too long.

"You never came back, though."

"Kinda hard to do when your platoon's 7,000 miles away on the other side of the globe in some God forsaken mine-infested sandbox."

"You weren't there for sixteen years, smartass. You returned quite the super hero. They threw you some freaking parade in town, but you still wouldn't give me a break and just stay put!"

"Didn't think you'd want me there."

"I didn't. But I needed you there either way."

"And since when am I a psychic, Wade?"

"You're not. I know. Not real big communicators, you and I."

"No shit."

It's not all that funny, yet, for some reason, it's hilarious. One look has them both doubled over in laughter, dropping their axes and clutching their stomachs.

When their fit of giggles dies down (not that they would admit to giggling, of course), they stretch their backs in similar and equally fluid motions.

"Let's get a beer. I'm parched."

"Good idea."

"See? Communication's getting better already."

"Yeah well, when it's about beer..."

"I'll drink to that.

Things start to get a bit sunnier after that, outside as well as inside. The first night they spend in that narrow bed together, they curse and snipe at each other for lack of room, kicking shins and hogging blankets. They've shared this bed before, but they were boys then and a lot smaller.

At long last, Jesse gives up, dragging his part of the blankets on the floor and sleeping on the rug. If there's one good thing he's learned in the Army, it's being able to get some sleep pretty much anywhere, anytime. He's out like a light, even though Wade figures the threadbare rug can't be a whole lot more comfortable than the old wooden floor itself.

Wait…is he feeling sorry for his brother? Oh great, now they only have to wait for hell to freeze over and pigs to start growing wings.

Not a bad feeling, though. And he does appreciate the side-effect of having the bed all to himself. Perhaps tomorrow, they can switch.

Or perhaps not.

He'll think about it. But not too hard.

The day after, they decide to go hunting. Expertly, both men inspect and clean their rifles, before setting out, carrying their licenses with them, plus the usual supplies of food and drinks and first aid set, including flares. It's pretty remote out here and cell phone reception is very poor.

Luckily, neither of their licenses is expired yet. Though the boys are well known here by local authorities, they don't feel like spending time at some police station for hunting without a license.

There's not much talking during the hunt, but they've done so much of it the day before, they can use a breather. So it isn't until they come home (not having actually shot anything, but that was always beside the point) and start preparing some food, that they start the conversation again. This time, about the aching place in Wade's heart. Where Zoe should be.

"So eh…what exactly did you call me over here for, bro?"

"I eh…I guess I needed someone to talk to who doesn't know Zoe as well as the other locals."

"And I'm the right person for that? As I recall it, you almost blew both of our heads off for trying to go on a date!"

"I know. And I'm sorry. I was jealous."

"You don't say." Jesse quips, eyebrow raised.

A small smile appears on Wade's mouth.

"I'm still jealous."

"How's that?"

"She's started dating again. And I know we're supposed to be friends and I did promise her I wouldn't interfere when she did, but it damn well hurts to watch her pay those guys so much attention."

"Why don't you tell her?"

"Eh…Kinsella? Communication? Problem?"

"Oh yeah, right."

"Any other ideas, smartass, like, helpful ones?"

"Honestly, I don't. I really wasn't kidding, Wade, you need to talk to her."

"I…I can't. I'm her friend now, I should be moving on. But I can't do that either."

The memory of his shameful defeat still on the very forefront of his mind, he tells Jesse exactly what happened during the Halloween celebration, ending on a sour note;

"So now she knows. She knows damn well how I feel and I just…I know she still has a right to distrust me, but I just need to get my bearings before I can go home and take her rejection."

"You're quite quick to decide she will reject you."

The laugh he barks out holds no humor in it.

"She will. If she wanted me, she knew where to find me. Still, does. I haven't gone anywhere. With anyone."

A shaky sigh. Though he doesn't say it out loud, he knows Jesse understands that, perhaps because he's so lousy with words, Wade is a very physical person. One with a rather healthy sex drive too. And with him rejecting every woman who's not Zoe, and not getting any closer to having Zoe, he hasn't had any sexual intercourse since right before she left him.

"Maybe that's the answer."

"What, go back to my old ways of just doing every girl available?"

"Maybe not to the extreme, but yeah. Do like she does. Date a little, flirt, allow yourself to have some fun. If it makes her jealous, even better. And perhaps there's another girl out there who might be the one who heals you."

"I…I can't. I just told you that. I had that pretty redhead eating out of my hand! And I caught one glimpse of Zoe in that way too sexy yellow mini dress and I was a goner. Suddenly felt like I was flirting with our nana, for Heaven's sake."

He grabs two bottles of beer from the mini fridge and throws one to Jesse, who catches and uncaps it, before taking a long swig, watching Wade do the same. His brother's knuckles turn white with the vast grip he has, clear sign of his frustration.

"I really miss her. I don't think I can trick myself into believing that anybody can replace her, not even in bed, not even for a second. I wish I could, but I know I'll feel horrible about myself. On the other hand, it's been so long and I still find myself reaching out to someone who's not there in the middle of the night."

"Okay, that settles it. I'm sleeping on the floor again tonight."

The look he receives is priceless.

"Ew, Jess!"

"My thoughts exactly."

He shuddered dramatically at the thought, still, he managed to put a grin back on his brother's way too morose face. Their mother had been right; Wade feels too much sometimes.

"Wade…go talk to her. Don't wait too long. She might reject you, she might not, but either way, you'll be better off knowing the facts."

"Yeah…give me a few more days, okay? I just…just give me a few more days."

"Whatever, bro. I'm not in a hurry. Now, let's eat. I'm starving."

"Since when?"

"Wait till you have to survive on K-rations and protein bars for three weeks in a row. Nothing gourmet about it, believe me."

"You enlisted out of your own free will, man. Don't blame me for the louse catering service."

"Fair enough."

"Jess…were you ever scared, you know, out there?"

Wade watches as he brother nods, swallowing a mouthful of fish with difficulty. There are a lot of stories out there he's never heard, too wrapped up as he was in his own problem. Maybe now's the time to reverse the roles and listen to his brother.

Carefully, Jesse starts talking about his tour of duty, not embellishing, but not sensationalizing it either. He talks for the rest of the evening and, as he crawls between his heap of blankets on the floor, gives his baby brother a strange look.

"Hey, Wade?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, man."

"Anytime. And thank you too."

"Glad to help. Goodnight bro."

"Goodnight, Jess."

_So, what do you think? I'd like to know. Thanks!_

_Next: will they finally get their acts together?_


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **Wow! Again, thanks for the reviews, for all my new followers. This story is doing so well!

SFogh: Are you kidding me? Your stories are wonderful. I should leave you some great reviews too. Sorry for not doing so. I strive to better myself. ;-)

Anyway, for SFogh and all others: here's a new chapter, next one will round it up.

**Disclaimer: **After 75 stories, it's getting harder and harder to come up with an original way to say I don't own a TV show. I don't own any TV shows. If I did, I would pay people to write! Oh well...I guess I'll remain an unpaid writer for now. You all pay me in reviews ;-) On with it...

**After the fire **

'The look' has become an entity of its own. Zoe remembers it night after night as she tries to fall asleep. Many sleepless nights following many dreadful, cold, dull days during which she has to force herself to concentrate on doing her job right.

For once, Brick doesn't pester or question her. He did suggest she'd take a few days off, but she declined the offer, knowing that sitting home doing nothing is no option.

What the other options are, she's not so sure of.

She hasn't seen him or spoken to him since that Halloween evening. The morning after 'the look', she wanted to talk this over. If there's one thing she's learned about dealing with Wade, it's that she should never let things stew. They both tend to mull things over way too long, drawing their own conclusions and taking their own actions accordingly. In the end, they are never right in their assumptions about what the other one feels and as a result, end up causing more pain than necessary.

Yet, when she reached his gate house, he was gone. So was his car. Nobody knows where he went off to. Lavon just sighed when she told him and shook his head at her in a sad, beaten puppy way.

"Lavon Hayes is very sad to see this go wrong, but he's not surprised. Fix this, Zoe."

"I wish I knew how."

"You do, Z. You do."

He left without another word.

Zoe went to the Rammer Jammer next, though the chance of finding him there was slim. And indeed, there was no plaid shirt to be seen.

Only Lemon was there, who told her (after much coaxing) that her partner taken a leave of absence and that she could reach him in case of an emergency. A Rammer Jammer emergency, not a Zoe Hart one. The emphasis was clear.

Her search went cold after that.

He didn't come back for a week and when he did, he still avoided her. In fact, he tried and is still trying to avoid the majority of the people in town, which is not an easy feat when you run the local bar. Nobody can accuse him of being rude or looking for a fight. It's more like all the fight, all the determination he has so carefully built over the summer while renovating her house, has vanished and he just can't seem to find it back.

For some reason Zoe can't put her finger on, he's gliding back to his old Wade ways of drinking, sulking and not communicating unless he has to, minus the distraction of a plethora of scantily clad Southern damsels.

He's there of course for Planksgiving, Lavon would never allow him to miss it. Plus, Wade's reputation as a handyman had grown considerably since he single-handedly built a house, so his assistance was paramount when it came to building floats and stages. He doesn't mind really, may even be relieved that he can distract himself by doing some hard manual labor.

Zoe however, now so upset by the sudden and still inexplicable loss of their friendship, decides at the very last moment she can't stand the forced cheerfulness of one of Bluebell's most beloved holidays and takes a plane to New York to visit her mother. Candice is happy to see her only daughter, but is very concerned when she for once finds herself unable to truly comfort or advise her.

Zoe's quick to assure her mother that she's not there for advise and that she only needs some space so she can do exactly what she probably shouldn't do, but inevitably always does.

During the day, there are enough things to distract her. Places to visit, friends to reconnect with, shops to plunder, but at night, with the lights off, she mulls, tosses and turns. Can't find any peace as the busy streets outside suddenly seem too loud and too bright, so much unlike the soothing quiet cricket sounds and the pale moonlight shining through her curtains in her home in Bluebell.

Her restless mind goes through every conversation she can remember having with him since she came back from New York at the end of summer with a fine tooth comb, trying to find a clue. She blames herself. Blames him. Or Bluebell. Perhaps it was the weather, or circumstances beyond their control. Yet she never reaches a conclusion, never finds a reason. There's no way out of this for her.

Thanksgiving is a full house at Candice's place, with many people there dressed to impress and too much to be grateful for, but not the least bit sincere when it comes to the actual thanking part. Zoe's not bothered by it, for it means nobody is really paying her any attention and she can retreat from the inane conversations around her without anyone noticing her lack of responsiveness.

December crawls up on her, cold and wet and while Candice tries to persuade her to stay for a few weeks longer and celebrate Chanukah together, Zoe declines and starts gathering her stuff. She does try to keep her Jewish traditions alive, but she knows that if she stays, she'll only miss Christmas in Bluebell, regardless of the awkward status quo between her and Wade.

Besides, she also knows that, sooner rather than later, she needs to provoke a confrontation, if she ever wants to figure out where to go from here.

She's home again by the middle of December and she's incredibly grateful for the warm welcome she receives from Lavon and AB. As a welcome home gift, her home sweet home is decorated to within an inch of its life and now resembles a life-size gingerbread house. She loves it.

In staggering contrast, the gate house stands empty, bare and soulless next to her home. He's in there somewhere, just not showing himself. Before she can slide back into her depressing little rut, her best friends step in.

The afternoon before Christmas Eve, AB traps her in Lavon's kitchen and sits her down on a stool with a mug of hot cocoa, several plates of cookies in all kinds of Christmas related shapes and some silver, red, green and gold tubes of icing.

"Help me Zoe. I need to get these ready for tonight."

Not feeling like protesting and glad to be doing something indoors, Zoe complies and picks up her first cookie and the red icing. She's bored and restless and it's pretty chilly outside for Bluebell standard. It feels like it might even snow later on.

It's quiet and cozy for a while as AB mixes some new dough and her unhappy friend paints one moose after another star.

"So…any Christmas plans?"

Zoe looks at her friend incredulously. AB is a sweet woman, but she can't act to save her life.

"What plans should I have AB, other than Lavon's party?"

AB busies herself with taking another tray of cookies from the oven, effectively avoiding looking at her friend, who is staring at her bent over backside with a palpable air of indignity.

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps you had something in mind with…"

"With Wade? Is that the point of this little chat, AB? Did he ask you to talk to me?"

Now it's AnneBeth's turn to look baffled.

"Sure, because we all know Wade likes nothing more than people prying into his feelings. So no, this is not about him asking for help, or you asking for help, because Heaven forbid either one of you ever admitting you need it!"

Defeated and shamefaced, Zoe hangs her head.

"Okay, so I do need it. I just…I want to fix this. But I don't even know what _this_ is anymore."

Taking pity on her incredibly dense friend, AB refills their mugs, offers her a cookie (which Zoe reclines; the smell is enough of a sugar high) and puts her hand comfortingly on the other girl's.

"Excuse me for being blunt here, Dr. Hart, but you know pretty darn well what this is. Don't make me spell it out."

When no answer comes, she sighs dramatically.

"Okay, then I will, though I can't believe a smart woman like you doesn't see it when it's clear to a toddler! You love Wade. Wade loves you. But because you're both so focused on being friends and not hurting each other, you're doing exactly that. It was only a matter of time before one of you would go stir crazy. Seems to me like Wade's at that point."

"But I thought our friendship worked," Zoe whines.

All pretty Southern Belle pretence gone, AB snaps:

"Don't be naïve. Friendship can only work if there are no other feelings clouding it. I'm sorry to break it to you, Zoe, but you're a fool if you don't know this was doomed from the beginning. It was a ticking time bomb. Wade has never stopped loving you, he's been working himself into oblivion to show you he's trustworthy and solid and yet, here he is, stuck in the friend zone. It's not such a rewarding place to be, from his point of view."

"So you think this is easy on me?"

A deep, frustrated sigh comes from her tormented friend, who's kneading the cookie dough so roughly one might think it offended her.

"I never said that. I know you've been struggling too, but please be honest with me and yourself for a second. Don't think, just react from the heart. Do you love Wade?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust him?"

"Yes."

It's blurted out on instinct, yet Zoe knows it to be true, so for once, she doesn't try to take it back or embellish it in any way. The one word, simple answer can be what it is. A plain and simple truth.

Hands serenely resting on the ball of dough, AB stares her down.

"Then pray tell, what's the problem?"

Bless AB for this last question, because right at that moment, all the pieces of the puzzle fall seamlessly in place. A smile breaks through on Zoe's face and she leaps up to hug her friend. A new resolve settles itself in her heart.

It's time to get Wade back. And she thinks she knows how to do it too.

Just because walking straight to him and take what she wants is so not their style.

"Wash your hands and turn off the oven, Beth. We have to go to Mobile, right now!"

Meanwhile, Jesse's been valiantly trying to knock some sense into his baby brother. Which is why he's here. Well, that and celebrating his first Holiday season with Wade and their father in well over a decade. It was about damn time too.

Armed with two beers, he sits next to him on the gate house porch, ignoring the chill in the air. He hands one of the cold bottles to his brother and they clink them together in a silent toast, before taking a slug.

"So…"

"So…"

With a small smirk, Wade mimics him. Even though he's thoroughly fed up with everything and everyone around him, it's still quite amusing to watch his brother trying to be subtle. A trade not in the Kinsella gene pool. So of course he's failing ominously.

He gets a glare as a result.

"Any other plans for Christmas, or are we just hanging out here?"

"Pretty much. Got an invitation from Lavon. Might check out his party. You can come along if you want. Go to the square later to check up on Earl playing Santa. Can't believe he's back to doing that, but he insisted and it actually went pretty well last year, so why not, right? Tomorrow I guess I'll either go into work or play some games."

Doesn't sound too optimistic. Damn, this will take all of his tactical skills. Talking to Wade these days, never mind getting him to listen and do as he's told by his older, wiser brother, is very much like walking into a mine field without a map. Which he has also done. He didn't enjoy the experience then and he's sure he won't like it any more now.

"Don't you think you might have something better to do?"

"Don't play games with me, man. Spit it out already!"

"Go talk to her!"

"And say what exactly?"

"I don't know! Haven't we been through this already? What do you want to say? What is it you want to see happen for the two of you Wade?"

With a sigh, Wade contemplates the question. However easy the answer seems to be in his head, he's afraid, make that terrified, of the result. He's never before simply got what he wanted and while he's used to having to fight to make anything happen for himself, he's not so sure of the amount of fight left in him. Was he naïve to think that building her a house and owning his own place and showing her he's not interested in other women would be enough?

But what more can she want from him? And can he deliver if he ever finds that out? Does he still want to?

Oh well, at least the answer to the last question is still obvious. He wouldn't be in this situation if it wasn't a solid, capital YES.

He realizes Jesse's still waiting for him to acknowledge his question.

"I want her to love me. Trust me. To give me another chance to love her. It really shouldn't be that hard, but guess what? It is."

"Is it?"

What the hell? He actually veers up from his chair in indignation.

"What the hell, Jesse?!"

"Calm down, man. It's not such an offensive remark, you know. I might be a simple soldier, but I still can't see the difficulty in telling Zoe what it is you want. The worst thing that can happen is that she doesn't want you and that would royally suck. But you've grown up since this summer and you've come this far already. You can't give that up. Show some pride in who you've become."

"I am proud!"

"Then stop groveling and start talking. Don't beg, don't explain, don't plead for forgiveness. Those ships have sailed and the old Wade is long gone with it. This new man just needs to man up and tell her what it is he wants! And just so you know, your big bro is pretty confident she won't turn it down either."

"Oh he is, is he?"

"She loves you, Wade. She just had to get over herself and her own engrained believes. But I think she's as sick and tired of this friendship thingy you claim to have as you are. Now be a knight in shining armor one more time and break it first."

"What if it's not that easy?"

"Damn it Wade Lawrence Kinsella, what if it is?"

As expected, the use of the much hated, never to be mentioned, punishable by a slow, painful death when it is, middle name rouses Wade from his chair again.

"Shut your stupid pie hole, Jesse Kingston Kinsella!"

Okay, so he has a cringe-worthy middle name too, but it doesn't get a rise out of him as easily as it does with Wade, who's even tried to erase it from his birth certificate once. Which got him into trouble with their mother, who told him sweetly that is was his beloved grandfather's name and how he was a great hero during the Korean War.

Loving his mom the way he did, Wade never tried to get rid of the name again. He just didn't like hearing it very much.

Still, it's a pretty effective weapon to use to literally get a rise out of him, which is what's needed right now.

"Wade…go get your girl. Believe me. Believe in yourself. It's Christmas after all."

He stands and walks inside, picking up his old army duffel bag from the floor.

"I'll go and ask Lavon if he has a guest room I can crash in. Give you and Zoe some privacy. I'll get the cliff notes later tonight, right bro?"

He doesn't get an answer, but there's a new glimmer of hope and determination in his kid brother's eyes.

Two hours later, Zoe beats him to it. She has bullied AB into a very fast, but nonetheless important last minute shopping trip to Mobile, where she bought Wade a Christmas gift she didn't even show her friend, because Zoe wasn't sure she would get it. Come to think of it, she wasn't sure Wade would, but she would have to make him see.

Satisfied with her little plan and bravely swallowing her fear, she takes the prettily wrapped box under her arm and sprints to the gate house, hoping he hasn't fled and he'll open up for her. Perhaps it would have been wiser to give this to him tonight at Lavon's party, where the rest of the gifts are exchanged, but she knows this has to be done in private and now, two hours before the party in the town square will start, is the only private time she'll get with him.

If he's home and willing to let her in. In all meanings of the word.

Hesitantly, she knocks and after hearing some shuffling, she sees the knob turning. He's standing in front of her, with just a towel wrapped around his lower half. Her mouth waters. Damn it, he's just so beautiful. Shivering violently, he urges her to come in.

"Get in here, Doc. I'm freezing my assets off."

Eyes rolling, she passes by him, careful not to touch him. If she gets her way, that will happen soon enough, but she needs him to listen to her first.

"Give me a sec, Doc."

He disappears into his bathroom and comes out a few minutes later wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He unceremoniously plops down on the threadbare couch.

"Now, what brings you here?"

It's not as cold as she has feared, but he's still guarded. Perhaps still bracing himself for the news she's about to bring. Zoe can only hope the look he'll give her later is much more warm and rewarding. If only she's not too late. Please don't let it be too late.

Feeling nervous and awkward, like a gawky teenager, she hands him the box.

"I eh…I got you a Christmas gift. I didn't want to wait till tonight to give it to you."

"Eh…okay."

He looks at it like it contains a bomb, weighing it in his hands. He has such wonderful hands. Worn and roughened and calloused, but capable of so much tenderness at the same time. Merely the memory of it makes her blush.

"I eh…my gift for you is already under Lavon's tree. Is that okay?"

"Sure. You really didn't have to give my anything."

"We're friends, remember? So you're supposed to get a gift. I hear it's tradition."

There's nothing to say to that, even if she does hear the sharp emphasis on the word 'friends'. He looks from the box to her.

"Should I open it now?"

"Please."

With a nod, he pulls at the ribbon and removes the paper. Carefully, he opens the box inside to reveal…

"A photo album?"

He looks at her incredulously, not quite knowing what to make of this rather unusual gift.

"I can explain. Will you let me, please?"

"Sure, why not?"

It sounds…resigned, almost like he's bored with her presence already, like he's merely indulging her request, like she's a small child who won't stop whining if she doesn't get her five minutes in the spotlights. She sits down, stands again, then starts pacing, nerves again taking over.

"I eh…you know I lost all my photo's, all my memories and keepsakes from Bluebell in the fire, right?"

She doesn't wait for his affirmation, blindly plunging on before she can figure out if she wouldn't rather run away in a total panic.

"There were some pretty nice ones too. Of my first Planksgiving, of Halloween, of…of last Christmas."

She stops there, swallowing hard and imagines him doing the same as the memories take over of that one single perfect moment the year before, when she asked him to be her real boyfriend. They were so happy then.

"I guess what I want to say is that I want to create new happy memories. Fill this album with new pictures. Starting with this Christmas. And I want you, I need you to be a big part, the biggest part of those memories. I want…I want us back, Wade. Do you think we can?"

His hands, clutching the album to his chest, are trembling. For a moment, Zoe stares at him, lost between hope and despair.

Then he shakes his head. And she sinks to the floor in utter defeat. However, he's there to pick her up before she can fall apart.

"Zoe, darling listen to me, please. We can't have us back. Not because I don't want to, but because last year's Wade and Zoe belong in the past. I've changed, you've changed and if we do want this relationship, we have to leave our old selves and all of their insecurities behind. So the question is all wrong. I don't want the old Zoe back, I couldn't care less about the old Wade. I want us. Right here, right now. Looking forward, doing things right."

Hope flares again. Joy follows. Certainty knocks. Because he's right. This has nothing to do with picking up where they left it off. This is by starting over as two new, healed people. People who have faith in themselves and each other, whose foundation is as solid as the one he created in her house.

She stands, no longer wobbling. He puts the album down on the coffee table, hands no longer trembling. He looks her in the eyes and she sees all she hoped to see and more.

"I love you, Zoe Hart."

"I love you, Wade."

"But do you trust me? Will you trust me if I come home late from the Rammer Jammer and I didn't have time to call you? Will you trust me when the bar's crowded with pretty young girls, all flirting with me?"

There's not a shred of doubt in her heart.

"Yes. I trust you, because you trust yourself. Plus, I've seen the looks you gave me. And I've seen lots of pretty ladies coming your way and you rejected all of them. You no longer need a harem of girls to confirm your masculinity or your self-worth. So I do believe in the new Wade Kinsella. I love him more than I know how to express."

"Oh I know a way…" he sighs, before cupping her face in his hands.

Right before he closes his eyes, she spots the look in them. Love, pure love. Directed at her. She hopes he sees the same in her own orbs before she closes them too as he closes the distance between their lips.

His kiss is so welcome, his hands on her burning away all last remnants of pain. He's warm and real and finally all hers again. It feels both familiar and new and exciting. As his teeth nibble gently on her lower lip, she sighs, giving Wade the opportunity to slide his tongue in. She moans softly into his kiss, deepening their kiss and pressing her wanting, aching body against his, feeling his growing excitement, spurring her on.

Next thing she knows, he lifts her easily into his strong arms, intent on making some new memories of the kind that will most certainly not make it into their new album.

Hours later, they reluctantly stretch their pleasantly aching bodies and get dressed to go to the town's festivities. When they arrive, nobody really pays them too much attention as Santa has just arrived. Earl, sober and laughing, is giving his best performance yet and Wade feels strangely proud of his father as he listens to the many wishes of the Bluebell kids and hands out wrapped boxes and candy canes.

Two hours later, they stroll hand in hand through the fairytale like streets of their beloved Bluebell, when they meet up with Lavon, AB, Jesse and Earl, who's now no longer in Santa costume as Santa's supposed to be on his way again. Upon noticing their proximity, their clutched hands and their equal smiles, they all congratulate Wade and Zoe on their relationship, quickly abiding by the one rule the couple sets for them: the past is buried. This is not them trying again. This is a whole new, fresh relationship that has as much of a chance at working than any other. Make that even more.

With Zoe engaged in conversation with their friends, Wade gestures to his father and brother.

"Guys, I have a bit of a problem."

"Already? You've only gotten back with her like, five seconds ago! Must be a record, even for you."

"Shut up, Kingston," Wade growls good naturedly.

"What is it son?"

He turns to Earl.

"I eh…don't really have a gift for Zoe. I mean, I got her some pretty generic scarf from some shop in Mobile, but that was because she was merely supposed to be a friend and I couldn't think of something to buy her that wouldn't be awkward or too…"

"Desperate? Clingy? Pathetic?" Jesse supplies with a smirk.

"Put a sock in it, Jesse!"

"Boys, behave! It's Christmas and there are still kids crawling around."

It's pretty odd to be berated by a sober Earl, now suddenly acting like a normal dad would, forgetting his sons were adult men, just not today, apparently.

"Yes, Dad." Both men chime dutifully, with idiot grins on their faces because everything is just so…miraculous.

Earl speaks up again.

"I know what you can do, son. Give us a ride home and I'll show you. You too, Jesse."

The three of them quickly inform the others about where they're going, Wade stealing a quick but thorough and utterly satisfying kiss from his girl before promising her they'll be back in time for Lavon's party.

Back at Earl's place, the brothers sit on the couch in the living room while their father's in his bedroom, rummaging through some cabinet drawers. They hear a triumphant 'aha' and moments later, he comes out carrying a faded pink leather covered box.

Their mother's jewelry box.

Recognition dawning on both faces, they eagerly make room for Earl to sit between them. Neither younger man is surprised that their dad has kept his wife's modest trinkets all these years.

The delicate lock snaps open and with slightly trembling hands which all of them pretend not to notice, he lifts the lid.

A bunch of tangled earrings, necklaces and bracelets become visible. Jacqueline Kinsella was never a showy woman, so her choice in jewelry is pretty simple and limited, but she took very good care of them. Both boys have each chosen one of her favorite pieces to keep right after she passed. Wade is wearing the Celtic cross she always wore on special occasions and Jesse still wears her college sorority ring on a chain around his neck. They haven't seen the other pieces since then though.

As carefully as they can with their big, calloused hands, they pick up the dainty pieces and try to recall occasions where she had worn them. When Earl stands to 'go and fix them a cup of coffee', they let him go, again pretending not to see the tears in the man's eyes. Or in each other's.

Wade's eyes catch a small glimmer of something pearly white. He gasps softly, extracting it from between the other pieces. He swallows convulsively at the sight, a long forgotten memory taking over…

_Next: A sweet memory. I hope you'll like my take on a nine-year old Wade Kinsella..._

Reviews are my reward. Thanks for leaving me one!


	6. Chapter 6

**After the fire **

**AN: **So this is it, the last chapter of my story. Hope you like it! The inspiration came to me when I saw a picture of a very young Wilson online. So cute! Plus, I also think kids are perceptive and they can tell when grownups are lying to them, though they might not exactly know why. I tried to reflect that in nine-year old Wade. I hope I did him justice.

**Disclaimer**: So sorry, they're not mine.

Now…enjoy this last installment…

_He's nine years old. It's a pretty warm summer's day and his momma has given him some extra pocket money to reward him for his nice grades. He's only failed Calculus (horribly; again) and History (barely), but passed everything else and since it's been way worse before, she's proud of him._

_Plus, his nana has given him some money too (well worth the slobbering wet kiss she gave him on his cheek and which he didn't dare wipe off) and he's saved all his birthday cash and the money he's made from doing chores for rich people like Dr. Wilkes and mister Tucker. _

_Now he's wandering around Mobile with Lavon and George Tucker, trying to figure out what to do with the combined treasure of lots of cash and a warm summer holiday in complete freedom in front of them. They've already eaten more ice cream than their pleasantly churning tummies can handle (so worth the punishment for not eating his dinner later) and they've also stood gaping at some scantily clad ladies squirming in a shop window, laughing and winking and licking their lips. But that was before a giant of a man came from behind the shop door and chased them away._

_That was fun! Scary, but fun. Makes him wonder what those ladies were trying to sell. They looked pretty stupid crawling around like snakes. He kind of thinks he knows, but he's sure he'd better not ask if he doesn't want to hear the reverent Mayfair's speech about him having to be a good boy. Again._

_He's old enough to know that whatever they were doing was not something a real lady like his momma would ever approve of._

_He hurries to catch up with his friends, but stops dead in his tracks when he sees something very pretty in a shop window._

_It's a very simple necklace really. Just a pearl, perfectly round in a delicate, silver setting. It's something his momma would just love. It would make a very pretty Christmas gift, way better than the stupid wooden picture frame he gave her last year, something he had made in arts and crafts at school. She was happy with it, like momma's always are, but he felt disappointed that he hadn't saved for a real gift, like his dad had and even Jesse. Who was much more disciplined than he was and had managed to get their mother a bottle of her favorite perfume._

_He hasn't believed in Santa since he was six and his brother Jesse was eight, when they caught their dad dressing up in a Santa suit and he finally understood why Earl never joined them on Christmas Eve when they got their presents at the town square with the other kids._

_They never made a big drama out of it. It was kind of nice to have a secret his classmates didn't know about. Made him feel sort of important, and smarter too. And from that moment on, they just changed the Kinsella tradition and started giving each other gifts on Christmas morning._

_This would be the year to rectify his stupid, childish gift of last year. As a gift to Jesse, he could just take up some of his chores for a while and for his dad, he could still make something in arts and crafts. He loves them both (though Jesse not so much sometimes, well, most of the time. He's a pest), but he's a mommy's boy at heart and not ashamed to admit it._

_So his top present would be this necklace for his momma, because she's the best mother in the whole wide world. Plus, it might just make her feel better. He might be only nine years old, but he has a feeling something's not quite right with her. She's so tired lately and she hardly eats. She's paler and skinnier and sometimes she just looks…scared. Moms shouldn't look scared. Ever. It's wrong._

_But nobody ever tells him anything, denying there's anything to be worried about. He's angry at hem for treating him like some stupid baby! He'll show them who's a big boy!_

_His mind made up, his grubby little hand pushes the glass door and immediately leaves a smudge. He steps over the threshold and finds himself in a cool, sophisticated interior._

_Suddenly shy, he hardly dares to ask the kind sales lady who comes up to him for what he wants, but she patiently waits for her young client to gather his wits about him._

_When he eventually does, he asks her, with all his still quite dormant Southern boy charm for the pearl necklace in the window. Pointing to a table and chair, she tells him to sit down while she retrieves the item._

_She sets the box in front of him, but all he can do is look. He doesn't dare touch it with his ice cream stained, sticky fingers. With a trembling voice, he asks for the price._

_And has to swallow his disappointment when he hears the amount._

_It's twice as much as he has managed to save. And here he thought he owned a small fortune. He guesses that's why he failed Calculus (horribly; again)._

_Tears spring in his eyes and the lady takes pity on him._

"_How much do you have, son?"_

_Emptying his pockets, he throws the crumpled up bills and coins carelessly on the table, hastily grabbing back the packet of gum and the dirty wrapper of a cookie he's eaten the other day. Quickly and efficiently, she counts it out, in utter silence as if not to embarrass him in front of the few other customers nearby._

"_There are some nice things you can buy for this amount. Do you want me to show you?"_

_He shrugs, not seeing the point, but she's so kind to him, it would be impolite to refuse. She nods, leaving him to wipe his eyes and nose with his crumpled up, none too clean handkerchief. Not too much later, she comes back with some more boxes. With seemingly endless patience, she shows him the things that are 'within his budget', as she so diplomatically calls it._

_But his eyes wander, again and again, to the pearl necklace he has his heart set upon. As if it was a miraculous cure for whatever is wrong with his mother. _

_Without any comment, she packs the other stuff away, then looks at him._

"_What's your name, dear?" _

"_Wade. Wade Kinsella."_

"_Well, Wade Kinsella, how about we make a deal. You want this to be a Christmas gift?"_

_He nods. "For my momma."_

_Her smile is still kind; she has the patience of an angel. Does she have a son giving her gifts too? She should have one. She deserves it._

"_She's lucky to have such a generous son. Now, how about I keep this necklace for you? I won't sell it to anyone else. That'll give you some time to save up and come back for it."_

_Wade looks at her like she's giving him the Holy Grail! But then his face falls. Christmas might be five months away, but can he really not spend a dime for this entire summer? Save all his meager allowance? Or should he ask for some help? But whom? Dad? Not very likely, dad barely makes enough to make a living. He has other things on his mind. Grownup things, like not telling his son what's wrong with his mother. So no, not dad. Jesse then? No, he won't share the credit with his brother this time. They will all think it's been Jesse's idea all along. This has to be from Wade and Wade only._

"_What if I don't come back for it?"_

"_Then I'm sure I can sell it after the Holidays too. But something tells me you'll come back."_

_He nods again, hope burning because of a stranger's faith in him. Or is it because of the ice cream?_

"_Here, let me give you our business card, so you can get in touch with us. And I'll write your name on the back of this box and keep it safe for you. Deal?"_

_He takes the prettily embellished card and watches her write his name down on a piece of stationary, sticking it to the box with some tape. Then she stands and he does too. Awkwardly, he shakes her hand and she winks at him, like they're two conspirators. She even opens the door for him and shows him out like a gentleman. _

"_I'll be seeing you, Mr. Kinsella."_

"_Yes. Yes, you will. And…thanks."_

"_You're welcome, dear."_

_Feeling pretty mature and slightly proud of himself, he scans the street for his friends, only now realizing he didn't come to Mobile alone. He finds them after ten minutes of frantically running around the busy shopping streets, at a comic book store, where Lavon smacks him up the head for disappearing. He asks Wade where he's been, but he doesn't answer. It's none of their business. _

_And no matter how alluring these comic books are, not one dime leaves his pocket for the rest of their little city trip. He can't let the store lady down._

_Or his momma._

_Back at home, his mother asks him what he's been up to and if he had fun with his friends. He answers her that yes, he did have a good time, but never mentions the jewelry store. And even when he does get punished for not finishing his food, like he expected he might, he still feels this happy buzzing in his soul. It must be pride._

_For the rest of the summer, he does every little chore he can think of, saving every penny, counting the growing amount every day (he might not flunk Calculus next term) and putting it in his locked up wooden box where he keeps all his trinkets and treasures, with the key on a string around his neck._

_The weekend before Christmas, he can't believe he's done it! It's the exact amount of money he needs. He gathers it all and carefully stores it in his Ninja Turtles wallet. Without telling anyone where he's going, he runs to catch the bus to Mobile._

_And comes to the devastating realization that he needs to buy himself a return ticket. Which means he'll still be some dollars short. Yet, it's now or never and maybe he can explain it to the nice lady and they can work something out._

_With wobbly legs, he gets off and finds his way to the store. He enters the cool, chic interior and asks the man who addresses him (a tall man with a big nose and a skinny face, who looks a bit intimidating and not nearly as friendly) for the nice lady working there. The man nods with an expression of disdain in his eyes, but Wade's seen that before on most people who meet him for the first time, so he doesn't really care._

_Thank God, the lady comes out from same room in the back and claps her hand in delight when she sees him._

"_Mr. Kinsella. I knew you'd be back. Shall I get it for you then?"_

_He nods, not knowing how to tell her he's still a few dollars short._

_She's only gone for a minute, but then she points him to the same table they sat at a few months before and hands him the box._

_It's such a pretty necklace. His momma would be so happy and he's tried so hard. But…_

_Trying to hold back his tears, his confession comes out. The lady doesn't say a thing and Wade expects her to put the box away any moment. Maybe he can ask her to call his momma and tell her what he's been trying to do. Or would that make her feel even sadder? She hasn't been getting better over the summer like he had prayed for every single Sunday in their usual pew at church._

_Guess God's too busy to listen to a nine-year old._

_However, the lady directs him with a small nod to the counter. With perfectly measured gestures, she starts wrapping up the gift in shiny silver paper with a red bow. Not one word about him still not having the right amount to pay._

_She punches in some numbers on the cash register and holds out her hand to him._

"_Come on son, give me your savings."_

"_But I…"_

"_Just give me whatever you have left and take the necklace, Mr. Kinsella. Consider the bus money my gift to you. I'm proud of you boy and I'm sure your momma will be delighted."_

_Staring at her in awe, he pays her and takes the box in his hands, still waiting for permission to leave with it._

"_Go home, Mr. Kinsella. And Merry Christmas."_

"_Merry Christmas to you too, ma'am."_

"_My name's Lucy. And I hope to see you again sometime."_

_There's nothing comparable to the pride Wade feels on the bus ride home, clutching the small box in his hands so hard his knuckles turn white. On Christmas morning, he makes sure it's the last present left underneath the tree. He nervously hands it to his momma, who opens his gift and accepts it with a sweet kiss on his cheek and tears in her eyes. She doesn't ask questions, but lets him put it around her slim neck, laughing when his clumsy boy's hands fumble with the small clasp._

_Is it his imagination, or does she look better than yesterday?_

_A year later, his mom is dead and Christmas is never the same again. Earl starts drinking, he starts skipping school to make up for the lack of money being spent on bare necessities and Jesse's gone from home for days._

_He visits the store in Mobile some years later, though he doesn't really know why. He finds it locked 'due to family circumstances'. Slightly disappointed, he finds a bar to get some food. A newspaper lies forgotten on a table in the corner. For lack of anything better to do, he rifles through it, until his gaze lands on a photo in the obituaries._

_Lucy McBride, aged 69, died after fighting her cancer bravely to the end. She leaves behind a husband and two daughters. She is predeceased by her son Allan, who died in a car accident at the age of ten._

_At seventeen, Wade finally understands the lady's kindness. Now more than anything he wishes he'd gone back to see her sooner. To thank her for looking out for him like she must have done for her own son. Perhaps she and momma are together now, looking out for him…_

_It's a comforting thought…_

It's Earl's voice that rouses him from his trip down memory lane.

"Good choice, son. You made your momma really happy that day. Perhaps it's time to make another lady just as happy with it."

He nods and looks around for something to wrap it in. Silently, Jesse hands him a clean handkerchief from his back pocket. It's not exactly the wrapping he had in mind, but it'll have to do, so he accepts. Feeling pretty awkward in this little too sentimental setting with his all male-family members, he quickly stuffs it in the inner pocket of his ancient leather jacket, avoiding eye contact with both his brother and his dad.

Again, it's Earl who breaks the silence.

"Just so you know, Wade, her engagement ring's still here too. Should you ever want it."

"That might just be a little too soon, dad."

"One can never be too sure of anything, my boy. And I do want a grandchild one day. Or more."

"First of all, we just got back together hours ago, so lay off the pressure, please. And second, how about Jesse here?"

Roused out of his comfortable spot on the sidelines, Jesse speaks up.

"What about me, bro?"

"You're the oldest. If you find a girl, you should have the ring."

"Bullshit. I'm not getting married, not interested in getting married, period. You go do the domestic thing with your second and last future Mrs. Kinsella. No competition from me."

"Boys, why are you fighting over this?"

"Good point, dad. Now, who's coming back for Lavon's party?"

Five minutes later, all three men arrive back at the plantation.

Lavon's annual party is a nice one. There's not a lot of people there, only Wade, Earl and Jesse, Lavon, Zoe, AB and Lavon's parents, whose marriage has been quite solidly mended. All of the presents are piled up underneath the huge tree in the living room. There's eggnog, punch and some none-alcoholic drinks and to everybody's surprise, Earl decisively avoids the hard liquor.

After a warm welcome toast from the host of the party, the exchanging of the gifts can commence. Though Jesse and Earl have been warmly included as last minute guests, they have no presents to either give or receive, but they seem more than okay with that.

Wade's happy and proud tonight. This is a tremendous progress he's made since the summer. His brother and he are getting closer, his dad is obviously trying to better himself (with any luck, there will be no more singing him from the rooftop this coming year. Huh, he might even start missing it) and then there's Zoe, looking like an angel in the soft twinkly lights of the tree and the many candles spread around the room. He notices they're all the fake battery powered ones and wonders if Lavon has suffered more fear from the night of the fire in the carriage house than he's so far let on.

It doesn't matter now, though. Tonight, his world is just fine.

With the evening coming to an end at around midnight and Jesse taking Earl home, he and Zoe leave the company of their friends together, with many cheerful greetings and thanks for thoughtful presents.

The one big gift still lingers in his pocket though. He decided on the drive home from his dad's place that he didn't want to give something so meaningful to him in public and it was agreed between the three of them that they wouldn't mention it to anyone all evening.

He saw the flash of disappointment in Zoe's eyes when she got the scarf, though she quickly composed herself and told him she loved it. It is at least a pretty one, soft and wooly and a pale pink. But he's sure the small piece of jewelry, no matter the rather unorthodox wrapping, will be appreciated, especially when he tells her the story behind it.

Last year, she asked him to tell her more about his mother and from now on, he will. He wants to, actually.

When they arrive at the carriage house, she invites him in. He grins at the thought that he will get to do more than just assembling her bed this time, though he wonders how much sleeping they will do tonight. It's not on his agenda, or at least not as a priority.

Feeling a bit nervous for no particular reason, he rubs his neck. Zoe, recognizing his signature gesture, simply pads the seat next to her, trying not to worry too much about what brought this sudden change in behavior in her boyfriend.

"What's eating you, Wade?"

"I eh…I got something else to give you. I mean, the scarf, I bought it when we were still supposed to be friends, but…I still got you something else. It's not new, but I…it would mean a lot if you would want it anyway."

"Of course."

Trying not to show her relief that this turns out to be nothing too serious, she watches him pull something from his jacket. He hands her a piece of folded cloth.

"Sorry it's not wrapped. I didn't have time."

"That's okay."

She unfolds the cloth and finds herself staring at a silver necklace with a pearl pendant. It's pretty and delicate and she smiles. One look at Wade, waiting jittery for her verdict, confirms her suspicion. This once belonged to his beloved mother.

Immediately she knows what it means to Wade to give her this and what it means to her that he would deem her worthy of wearing something that was once worn by the woman he loved first and most and whom he had to miss at a way too young age.

Tears spring in her eyes and she kisses his lips sweetly, one hand wiping the silent tear she finds on his cheek.

"Oh Wade, it's just…perfect."

"It was my momma's."

"I figured as much."

"I eh…it was my Christmas gift to her the year before she died. I saved up every penny I got all summer to get it for her."

"That's so sweet."

"Yeah, I guess."

He tells her the entire story and Zoe tries hard not to burst into tears at the image of the young and vulnerable, yet already strong and sweet boy he once was. Still, some wet streaks find their way down her cheeks. Wade gently kisses her tears away. Soon, it gets more heated and they retreat to the bedroom, where she allows him to show her with more than words how much of a sweet and caring man he truly is. The only thing not coming off is the necklace.

Afterwards, lying in the wonderful, warm cocoon of his arms, she wonders out loud:

"You think your mom would have liked me?"

This time, there's no doubt in his voice.

"She would have loved you. Because you're just amazing and you love me and make me strive to be a better man. And she would have been proud of that."

"I bet she was always proud of you, Wade."

"At least I tried."

"You did well. You were a good son to her Wade and you're still a good son to Earl. You even have Jesse back in your life. Those are all things any mother would be very happy with. And just so you know: you're a good man to me. And one day, you'll make an incredible father."

He stirs at that so he can look her in the eyes.

"You want to have children with me?"

"Preferably you, yes."

"Funny. Relief too."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, but really, Zoe? You think I can do this parent thing? It's not like I had the very best role model."

"Oh and I did? It's not the point, Wade. Look at what you've achieved without it. You don't need a good role model to become one, you're living proof of it. So I stick by what I said, you'll make an exceptional dad. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"You really don't want to. I can be happy without a kid I suppose, but…"

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I do want to. But just…it's a lot to take in. Can we for now be happy we got back together? Worry about the rest when we get there?"

She kisses him lightly on the lips before putting her head down on his chest.

"Yeah. We can do that. Just believe we will get there, okay? Because I do."

"So do I, Zoe. So do I."

And he does. After all that has happened this past year, he's quite certain he, no they, can do anything. Perhaps, in a way, he needed the potentially heartbreaking things of the last year to happen. The break-up showed him in no uncertain, undeniable terms that he was heading in the wrong direction. The fire, however tragic, gave him the chance to turn around and retrace his steps until he could once again decide what the best path to take was for him. And that path brought him back to his family and then to Zoe.

Brought him back to himself and burned his bridges in the wake of the fire that destroyed a house, but built a home.

Now, he can look forward and see another light burning. But it's a safe light, a promising and hopeful light. His life can only get better. With his bar, his friends, his father and brother.

And of course, with Zoe, who's now slumbering peacefully next to him, head resting against his chest, the small pearl pendant rising and falling between her breasts with every breath. It catches the light of the softly glowing night lamp on the nightstand.

He's glad she's wearing it now, glad he has found a way to include even his momma in his current happiness.

And his future happiness as well.

After all, his momma's engagement ring is still waiting for her too.

THE END

_That's all folks! I really hope you had fun reading this story. Your reviews throughout have been so encouraging, as have all the readers who have put me and/or this story on their favorites/follows lists. Thank you all so much! I hope I can continue to make you happy with more stories._


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